No Particular Reference
by LeavesofMyself
Summary: A variety of drabbles and one-shots mostly about Starscream. Now opened for suggestions for future writings as well as requests.
1. Chapter 1

**SingMyLullabySweet666: **Well, after reading a vast amount of Transformers fics. I've had a few plot bunnies running around in my head. This story really only consist of just that... Tiny little plot bunnies which mostly center around Starscream. lol I love him.... XD Anyway, I hope you enjoy. OH! The chapters very in length... it can be as long as a few pages worth of writing to the mere size of a drabble. Now..... enjoy.

**Disclaimer: **This goes all chapters! I do not own Transformers/Beast wars nor do I own any of the quote, lyrics, etc. All chapters are purely fan made and I do make any profit off of these writings.

**Chapter Warning:** Angst, Mild Swearing

**Chapter Rating:** T (to be safe)

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_~*~ We need others. _

_We need others to love and we need to be loved by them. _

_There is no doubt that without it, we too, like the infant left alone, _

_would cease to grow, _

_cease to develop, _

_chose madness and even death. -Leo F. Buscaglia ~*~_

Starscream glared indifferently at his surroundings as he took a seat to himself in the corner of the surprisingly spacious rec. room. He busied himself by tinkering with his Energon cube, too deep in his own thoughts to even begin to fathom of drinking it despite his systems warning him on his need to refuel. Carefully, without bringing notice to himself, which seemed impossible in the surrounding chaos, bleeding optics glanced away from the brightness of his Energon to survey his surroundings.

It was another 'celebration', or that is the excuse Jazz made when he pushed for this little gathering, for the 'declaration of truce' amongst factions. The very conception made Starscream sneer in distaste. It seemed that with the All Spark lost for good, there was no point to carry on in a 'pointless' war. Starscream snorted in bitter amusement at the very thought. Although the truce was mutual, Starscream could still note the tenseness between the two factions. There was just too much bloodshed between the two opposing forces for a proper alliance to form. In fact, all that really changed was the fact that the Decepticons and the Autobots lived under the same roof. There were still vast amounts of disapproval from both factions, arguments about who did what during the war and occasional skirmishes when things got too heated. Therefore, when Jazz so strongly pushed for permission to have a 'celebration' for the end of the war, Optimus Prime, and surprisingly Megatron albeit reluctantly, was all too eager to give, seeing this as an opportune moment to 'unite' the two factions, or at the very least ease the tenseness that had settled like a thick cloud of smoke in the base.

So here he was, sitting with an untouched, unopened Energon cube in the very far corner of the room…. Alone. Starscream frowned, that too had been one of the endless things that had not changed. He always found himself alone, never in the company of any other mech on base, not even his trine spent much time with him. Not that he cared. He was a mech that preferred his solitude to…. Starscream glanced up at his surroundings and sneered….. It was most preferable to this. Despite the overwhelming urge to just up and leave, he couldn't. All mechs were given time off to attend this pathetic and pointless function. The Prime had highly encouraged his troops to attend for at least an Earth hour. Megatron on the other hand decided to threaten his own faction to time in the brig and a personal "pep-talk" as he so called it with himself if they did not attend.

Starscream paused in thought to growl in frustration. Just because that incompetent oaf was forced to be here did not mean he had the right to force this annoying escapade on others who had better things to do. He did not was to be here, slag it!

The sudden deafening of music over the system Blaster had set for this particular occasion rocketed Starscream out of his thoughts once more. Crimson optics glanced over to the source of his newest annoyance to find Jazz at the station, seeming to sort through vast amounts of music. Starscream had to suppress the groan that threatened to arise in his vocal processor. Primus forbid! If Jazz was in charge of the musical entertainment….. Starscream had the sudden urge to rip out his audio sensors but with amazing ability, managed to suppress himself.

With the momentary distraction, Starscream took in his surroundings. Apparently many of the mechs had already arrived and the room, with a few exceptions, we still mostly divided. The Decepticons had apparently claimed the left side of the room and Autobots the right. The few exceptions only seemed to be Barricade, who had mingled in with that fleshling and his annoying yellow guardian, Frenzy and Rumble, whom had also seemed taken to the Camaro's charge, and surprisingly Soundwave, whom had busied himself with helping Jazz manage the DJ station.

Glancing around him, Starscream noticed that nearly every chair within in his vicinity was vacant. His frown deepened. It seemed that both factions had taken to avoiding him like the some fleshy plaque. Not that it bothered him. He didn't feel like being pestered, it was bad enough that he had to even attend this pathetic function.

Oh, he knew he was not well liked among…. Anybody. Slag, he was probably…. He was the most notoriously hated mech in both factions. It seemed to be one of the extremely limited things they had in common. The utter loathing of Starscream. Primus, even Megatron, the Slag Maker himself was more welcomed and accepted by the Autobits than he was. Starscream snorted in bleak amusement. Megatron, the very mech responsible for the war in the first place, stood in good graces with more mechs than Starscream could ever dream of doing. Even if he was liked by a certain mech, they were at least respectful to him.

Starscream wasn't so lucky. He was constantly faced with heated optics, glares, sneers, you name it. He had already spent a far share of his time in the brig for trying to defend himself. That's what pissed him off the most. He never started any of those confrontations. He was the victim slag it! He knew that the other mechs knew about his seemingly nonexistent fuse and used that to their fullest advantage. It never took much. Starscream could recall a certain encounter were the Terrible Twins had cornered him in one of the corridors of the base. They had mocked him by calling him "Screamer", a nickname he utterly despised, and shoving him back into the wall. Needless to say that it took Megatron, Prime, Ironhide, and Inferno to break up that fight. Starscream spent a week in that cell while the two who enticed the whole thing were let off with a month worth of second shifts.

Starscream clench his fist in building rage. Those two aft heads took every opportunity they could find to openly mock and ridicule him. He spent more time in the brig because of those two then he did for anything else……

The sound of metal against metal jerked Starscream from his displeasing thoughts as he glanced up for the source of the sound. One of the mechs, whom his designation escaped him for the moment, had grabbed one of the chairs near him and had proceeded to drag it over to where other had seated themselves.

Glancing around once more, Starscream could see that all of the mechs were here, or from what he could tell. It also appeared that this pathetic waste of his time was actually working. The two factions had slowly, but surely, come together, all apparently enthralled in a dance off started by Jazz… some even going as far as to bet on the winner. It seemed to be between Bumblebee and Jazz as favors to win.

Looking away from the large group of mechs, Starscream looked around himself once more and any amusement had gotten from watching the dance off morphed into another frown. He was still utterly alone. Many of the chairs that had been lined against this particular wall had been pulled off Primus knows where and…..

Starscream sneered, what did he care? He is… was the Second in Command and Air Commander of the Decepticon army, he did not simply care that he was sitting alone in the very far, poorly lit corner of the rec. room with a simple Energon cube and darkening thoughts as the only companion. It was illogical. Starscream spent the majority of his time alone. The only time he was in the presence of another mech was when he was on patrol or came to the rec. room to grab a cube of Energon but even then he always, always ate alone in his quarters.

This unending isolation never bothered him before, not even when he was a sparkling and his creator locked him in his chamber for orns without any contact, not even a reassuring pulse through their bond. It never bother him that he spent the majority of his Academy days holed up in his dorm until Skyfire forced him out or they went on an expedition together. It most certainly never bothered him when he lost Skyfire in the storm and never bothered him in the long vorns that passed after he disappeared. Never once did it bother him when he was climbing to the top of the Decepticon ranks nor when his own trine turned the other cheek as he took beating after beating from Megatron. It never occurred to him when Skyfire betrayed him and left to join the aft headed Autobits. Therefore, it would simply illogical for this isolation to suddenly burden itself on him. He did not, and he repeats it for good measure, did not adhere to being alone. He was a mech who preferred it.

Abrupt laughter interrupted his train of thoughts. Starscream glared at the gather group of mechs before looking away as his spark clenched painfully in its casing. Oh, he had noticed that even though the rec. room was nearly packed full of mechs with hardly any room to spare, a fifty-foot radius remained around him at all times. He was all too clear on that factor. A factor that made his spark constrict painfully once more.

Just before he could delve deeper into the strange phenomenon that plaque his thoughts, he caught sight of Thundercracker and Skywarp making their way in his general direction. Just as they were about to reach him, they veered off course and set themselves down at a table with the…… Lambo Twins.

Starscream couldn't contain a hiss of utter distaste and betrayal. He found it sickening how his wing-mates could befriend the very mechs who were responsible for the majority of their tribes to Hook after a battle. He continued to glare at them, watching their every move like a hawk, rage and betrayal deepening with each careless laugh. Apparently they had found common ground among the fact that the twins and his trine mate enjoyed pranking all too much. Still, Starscream could not fathom how his trine mates could simply ignore the very important detail involving the words Jet and Judo. His scowl deepened as the red aft headed had noticed him glaring their way and waving his way, a smirk of satisfaction and mock victory glued to his facial plating. It took all the will power Starscream had to not jump from his seat and show the ground-kisser just who he was mocking.

Turning away from the scene, Starscream stared at his still untouched Energon cube. His spark remained constricted in its casing. He was not, and never in a million vorns……

The clenching of his spark worsened. Starscream quickly glanced up, noting that his trine mates had even bothered to notice him, noting that the red twin still wore that disgusting smirk on his face, noting how he was still alone in the far corner of the rec. room, noting the various glares sent his way from random mechs of both factions, noting that to most present he simply didn't exist, noting that Skyfire had yet to even glance in his general direction much less acknowledge that he was even functioning, noting that the tension between the faction, though not completely depleted, was more relaxed, noting that…….

Starscream fixed an icy glare to nothing in particular, finally noting that we were indeed alone, completely and utterly alone….

For the remainder of the celebration, Starscream remained in the far, poorly lit corner of the rec. room with a still unopened, untouched Energon cube and dark thoughts as his only companion, his entire frame slumped in defeat, bleeding optics broadcasting his abrupt epiphany….

Not that any human or mech alike took notice….

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**SingMyLullabySweet666:** Hope you enjoyed. Please feel free to leave a review, it would much appreciated!! Constructive criticism is welcomed.


	2. Fear Nothing

**SingMyLullabySweet666:** Well.... This one is more like a drabble than anything. I hope you enjoy it! Lyrics are from Nightrage- Being Nothing.....

**Chapter Warning:** Slight Angst, Suggested Abuse, Dark Theme

**Chapter Rating:** T

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_~*~ Side by side, being nothing._

_All dead inside._

_Side by side, being nothing. ~*~_

Starscream, despite his cold malice act, his cowardly ways…. Despite his very nature…. Starscream had only one fear. Nothing. He feared nothing. He feared being surrounded so completely by nothing; he feared fading away into nothing, but most of all, the Second in Command and Air Commander of the Decepticon forces feared being absolute nothing.

If thought about logically, it seemingly proved why the SIC acted about so abruptly, without thought, without reason. It was not that he wanted the power that being the leader of the Decepticons, though it was a rather nice plus, it was that he did not want to become nothing, become useless.

He needed the attention, needed something to prove that he was still capable of something, anything… failure was only proof that he was not becoming useless. It pushed him. Fueled him. It was his life line, his only thread to sanity. He could not become nothing, it was not an option for him.

It didn't matter if Megatron beat him on a daily basis. It did not matter that he was called a 'fool' or that he had 'failed' yet again. Not to him. They were not insults. Those words were his blessings. It meant he was something, even if he was a nuisance, to which he was very aware he was; even if it meant disappointing Megatron numerous times… It was still a blessing. Even when he was latterly torn apart, it was still a Primus sent blessing. He was good for something. Even if it was only to provide his lord with a stress relief….

He would not allow himself to become nothing. It just wasn't an option…. He had to prove his creator wrong….. He would never become nothing, never be nothing.

To do so would be so completely mortifying to think.

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**SingMyLullabySweet666:** Review please!


	3. Whispers Upon My Back

**SingMyLullabySweet666:** Another sort of drabble. It kind of has a plot to it but it still needs development. You'll probably see an extension later on. XD Lyrics belong to Passage- World We live in.

**Chapter Warning:** Silghtly Dark Theme

**Chapter Rating: **K+

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_~*~ Voices whisper behind the walls_

_I look, I listen... ~*~_

They thought he didn't know. The fools. He knew, oh, how he knew. Every time he left the room, he knew. Every time he entered the command center to find it in an overwhelmingly thick silence, he knew.

He was no moron, far from it.

He knew it the moment he passed other mechs in the hall… The fools. He had audios and last he checked, he was not deaf.

Oh, the things they said. Called him crazy. Called him vain. They called him egoistical…. A megalomaniac. To them he was sparkless. Desperate. A traitor. Oh, they dared to mock him. How they mocked him.

It ignited a fire in his Energon lines, one that burned uncontrollable; a wild fire spreading to his core. It was unstoppable; untamable. How his rage would fall upon then like the sudden blackness of the night.

But for now, he let them talk, let them mock him. He carried on as if he never noticed a thing, never knew. Oh but he knew. But let them wait.

He was Starscream and he will end the whispers upon his back. He is supreme and he will be feared.

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**SingMyLullabySweet666:** Thanks for reading... Please review!


	4. Delectable

**SingMyLullabySweet666:** Well.... Here's another one. I hope you like this one. It's not dark or angsty!!!! I promise! lol

**Chapter Warnings:** Suggestive Themes, Light Cursing

**Chapter Rating:** M (to be safe)

**Characters:** Starscream + Megatron

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Starscream looked up and locked optics with Megatron whose vents had kicked into overdrive, lust and desire darkening his already crimson optics. Smirking, Starscream ran his glossa up and down the length his optics refusing to leave that of his mighty leader. A long low moan left Starscream's vocalizer causing Megatron to shiver and growl with suppressed desire.

Slowly, Starscream took the tip into his mouth and began to suck on it gently. A moan of ecstasy arose from his vocal processor as his mouth was instantly filled with his treat's sacred juices. Pulling the tip from his mouth, Starscream ran his glossa from base to tip and back again before pulling the whole thing into his mouth, savoring the juices that seemed to pour from the tip.

Abruptly, Starscream pulled away and smirked, "Like that don't you _mighty leader_?"

Megatron nearly howled in his frustration at being denied this sensational attention. Starscream's smirk only grew before he once again ran his glossa from tip to base slowly, stopping every so often to suck harshly at the sides, optics still glued to his leader's.

"Slag you Starscream, I'll-" but whatever threat or insult Megatron was going to say died instantly in his vocal processor as a growl of approval escaped instead when Starscream swallowed the length to the base, humming in satisfaction at the reaction he was able to instill in his lord.

Slowly, Starscream lapped at the tip of the length to gather more of the tasteful juices before sucking harshly. His head bobbed back and forth along the length, causing another hiss of approval from his leader. His mouth overran with the sweet tasting cream from the length to the point where a small trickle of it escaped Starscream's busy mouth only to slowly run a course down Starscream's chassis.

Megatron reached one of his servos out to catch the escaped liquid with one of his claws but it was harshly slapped away by his SIC. Starscream pulled the length out of his mouth once more to teasingly glare up at his commander.

"Ah, ah, ah, _oh mighty leader_…. No touching," Starscream smirked, "You have to beg for that."

Megatron sneered, "I do not beg!"

Starscream shrugged before he stood from his spot. "Have it your way then." Turning, Starscream headed for the to the doors of the command center, stopping briefing to turn back to Megatron. With a smirk of victory Starscream popped his Energon treat back into his mouth and sucked on it loudly just to unnerve Megatron before he left.

Megatron slammed his servos down on his throne, a growl of frustration, anger, and denied lust escaped from him. '_Slag Starscream! Slag him to the pit!_' were the only thoughts running through Megatron's processor as he tried to calm his overheated frame.

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On the other side of Nemesis, Starscream happily munched away on his Energon treat, glowing with the victory that he had over his leader. '_That was more entertaining than I thought it would be'_ was Starscream's last thought as he finished his treat before leaving for patrol.

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**SingMyLullabySweet666: **LMAO! I'm so mean! Review please!


	5. Lyric Drabbles

**SingMyLullabySweet666:** This is a chapter filled with drabbles inspired by corresponding lyrcs. I hope you enjoy. The songs are listed in order of appearance and belong to their respectul owner.

1) Ther Veronicas- Heavily broken

2) Christina Lorentzen- Going Down Under (creeping in my soul)

3) Crossfade- Drown You Out

4) Imogen Heap- Useless

5) Everlast- Dirty

**Chapter Warnings: **Angst, Dark Themes

**Chapter Rating:** T

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_~*~ Feels like I'm drowning_

_I'm screaming for air (screaming for air)_

_Louder I'm crying_

_And you don't even care ~*~_

It was often, more so than not, like this…. He the cast away of the group, the unwanted tang along; the third wheel. He never asked to be the way he was, for no mech wants to be so completely forgotten. That's what bothered him. Being so invisible. What hurt worse was that no one cared, no one noticed…. No one even tried. It was like he stood in the middle of the rec. room during one of Jazz's famous parties and just screamed, screamed until his vocalizer short circuited, screamed until his audios rang….. Screamed until he became one with his name…. but no one looked up. No one ever bothered. Not even HIM. He didn't even care. HE who used to smile his way with awe fascination, with aching passion, with collected calmness, but never again. He didn't see that he was drowning in his own abyss….

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_~*~ Creeping in my soul_

_It's getting out of control_

_I've gotta find my escape_

_And get out of this black hole ~*~_

He felt like he was trapped; walls built so high not even the Dinobots could scale them. He was caged. Trapped by his own demons, by his own actions; by the very darkness that crept into his spark and ate it alive, leaving nothing but a hollow chassis behind. He built these walls up and dug the hole under his own pedes. He created his abyss and just as he created it, he wanted to destroy it. But he hadn't the strength. He wanted to be untouched; unburdened once more. But he couldn't break his chains. He wanted to touch the sky unhindered. But he couldn't fly on broken wings.

Skyfire had told him, when he had no hope left, to just reach up. He was all out of hope, so in his cage, a servo slowly lifted into the air, the thick, constricting chains rattling with the movement….. But no one was there. There was no escape from his blackened abyss….

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_~*~ Now you can't hold me down anymore_

_I'll scream so loud, I'll scream so loud_

_Till I drown you out ~*~_

They watched as he buckled, a deafening scream tearing through his vocal processor. His sharpened claws dug at his armor, ripping, slashing, mutilating himself. His life poured through severed Energon lines, pooling beneath his frame. He watched through static-filled optics as their medic drew closer, his frame taunt with apprehension. He wanted to laugh at them, want tell them it was a waste of effort. But all that left his vocal processor were agonized screams. He shuttered his optics…. He had to drown them out. Had to overpower them. So he screamed until he could not. He needed them to shut up. To leave him alone. He wanted blissful silence. He was granted with thickening white noise…. And the ever present whispered words that only he seemed to hear.

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_~*~ I am a mirror, with no reflection_

_I am a razor, without my blade ~*~_

Useless. So utterly useless. I have no place here. My existence goes unnoticed, cycle by cycle. They don't need me here. Not in the labs. Not in the sky. Nowhere. I have become so expendable, so pathetically useless. They don't want me around. Not a traitor. They're so afraid of what I may do.

I don't like being useless….

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_~*~ And I'm so nasty_

_And I'm so greedy_

_And I'm so lonesome_

_Girl, I'm so needy ~*~_

He knew what they said about him. What they called him. The Decepticon whore seemed most favorable. But there were others. Most of the names were more degrading, more humiliating. But they pushed him to do this. They forced him to become so useless… So he had to do something. Anything. He couldn't be useless. He hated being useless… To be useless meant that he was nothing; he didn't want to become an absolute nothing…. He couldn't be 'nothing'. He feared it too much. So, he purposely degraded himself…. Purposely interfaced with more mechs than he cared to all in the name to be something…. Anything. So he was the whore. The one they took and took from with no regard as to how filthy it made him feel afterwards. But he took it in stride. He just hated being useless…. Being nothing.

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**SingMyLullabySweet666:** Review please!


	6. In the Face of Shame

**SingMyLullabySweet666: **Umm..... Don't ask...... Just don't ask.....

**Chapter Warnings:** Sticky!, Adult Content, Language, Angst, Adult Situation, Humilation

**Chapter Warning:** MA+

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He shouldn't want this, shouldn't enjoy this. He was only doing this to establish his existence, to remind every mech present that he was indeed functioning, that he was good for something. But try as he might Starscream couldn't suppress a whimper at the finger slowly circling his valve, nor the shiver of pleasure dancing through his heated frame. It never mattered how hard he tried to fight back the burning lust, the raging heat that built in his core, he always lost the self-proclaimed war in the end.

Starscream's deep bleeding optics glanced up at the optics of his partner, now burning sapphire from pent up lust and sick amusement. Starscream narrowed his optics and was about to snap a command for the other to just hurry up and get it over with when two thick fingers delved inside his valve, mercilessly thrusting in and out before Starscream could even adjust. Starscream hissed, his frame arching upward from the berth beneath him, while unconsciously spreading himself wider.

"You're so hot," rumbled the deep voice of his partner as he entered another finger into Starscream's valve. Starscream moaned in bliss, earning him a satisfied chuckle from his partner while thrusting his fingers harder into Starscream, "And you're dripping so much lubricant Screamer."

Starscream growled in sheer annoyance, "D-Don't call me that! Su-Sun-Sunshine!"

A frown marred the usually handsome features of the mech as he harshly slammed his fingers into Starscream's valve, fingertips scratching at the sensitive wires, all the while hissing, "You shouldn't insult the customer Screamer, it's rude."

Starscream would have shoved the mech away and beat him senseless had it not been for the fingers in his valve that were pressing up against a sensory node. Instead he groaned out through his moan, "Fra-ah!-frag…. Oh! Primus!.... Frag off!"

A smirk crossed over the yellow mech's features as he jab at the sensory node mercilessly causing Starscream to once again arch away from the berth, yelping in pleasure. All too suddenly, his pleasure was ripped away as the fingers left his valve only to slowly crawl up his chassis to rest against his closed mouth. Starscream glared up at the golden warrior, defiance radiating from his overheated frame.

"Tsk, tsk, Screamer. You're supposed to satisfy the customer's needs and desires… So suck." Was the given command. Starscream bristled with rage and shame.

"I AM NO-" but the warrior's lubricant fingers were shoved into Starscream's mouth, cutting him off. He tried to pull away, but the golden mech would have none of it. Growling, Starscream used his glossa to lick away his own lubricant, his processor registering nothing more than shame. When Sunstreaker was satisfied, he pulled his fingers free.

Sunstreaker aligned his thick spike with Starscream's valve, circling the opening teasingly just to aggravate the seeker more so than he already has.

"You know Screamer," Sunstreaker began as he slowly began to inch his way inside the tight valve, "You are probably one of the best PM's I've had in vorns."

Starscream growled in anger, "I am not a pleasure model!"

Sunstreaker paused for a moment, looking deeply into Starscream's deep crimson optics as if contemplating before he broke out into a grin, "Could've fooled me." It was the last thing Starscream registered before the golden warrior's spike was slammed into him completely, pleasure so intense that he blacked out….

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Starscream walked down the corridors of the base as he headed towards the rec. room. His optics glared at passing mechs, who, on this particular cycle, seemed to just simply stare with unsuppressed lust, snicker, or whisper something as he passed them by. When he entered the rec. room though, he had never wished for Primus to take him more so than he did at that moment. It seemed all optics turned from the movie theatre sized screen to him, all staring openly at him.

Confused, Starscream turned his attention to what the other mech's had been watching before he entered the room. His systems nearly crashed as he stared with deepening shame and horror. There on the overly large screen, pleaying like a bad pleasure clip, was last night's interfacing with that yellow twin glaring back at him. That…. That fragging aft-hole videotaped them together! And he's playing it where every mech can see it!

Starscream managed to stop gaping at the screen as he looked for the culprit, who was nowhere to be seen. Starscream could still fill all occupants' optics on him so he did the only thing he could process, he turned to flee. Just before he made it out of the rec. room, his optic's caught sight of Skyfire. For a split second they simply locked optics before Skyfire shook his head and looked away.

And then Starscream was out of the doors, running as fast as he could move, just trying to run from his shame. He was so filthy. So very filthy. But he didn't have a choice. Being useless was not an option, so he had to find something he was good at. He just need to feel useful… for something….. anything.

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**SingMyLullabySweet666:** Review please!


	7. More Lyric Drabbles

**SingMyLullabySweet666:** Hi everyone! I wanted to first thank everyone for reviewing. This is, by far, my fastest growing fic!!!! :D lol Anyway, onto the next set of drabbles. It's more lyrics. I HAD TO RE-UPLOAD THIS CHAPTER DUE TO A MISTAKE IN GIVING CREDIT FOR THE SONGS!!! IT'S BEEN FIXED!!! ENJOY NOW!!

**Chapter Warnings:** Angst, Dark Themes

**Chapter Rating:** T

**Songs Used (In order of appearance):**

Hurt- Johnny Cash

God's Gonna Cut You Down- Johnny Cash

Just a Thought- Gnarles Barkley

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_~*~ I hurt myself today_

_To see if I still feel._

_I focus on the pain,_

_The only thing that's real. ~*~_

Numb. It was truthfully the most fantastic sensation he had felt in vorns. Numb, though not completely, but it was better than what he felt on a daily basis. No humiliation. No suffocating anger. No seething hatred…. The pain was still there though, too strong to completely blot out, but it was dulled, smothered under his falsehood of numbness. But it was that same pain, the same agony that let him know he still functioned, still served some purpose. It was one of the reasons he took the laser scalpel to his circuits and energon lines buried beneath his dermal plating; it was his only reason. He just had to make sure he still functioned; it was his reassurance.

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_~*~ Well you may throw your rock and hide your hand_

_Workin' in the dark against your fellow man_

_But as sure as God made black and white_

_What's done in the dark will be brought to the light ~*~_

Starscream growled low in his vocalizer, his sharp crimson optics narrowing as seething hatred and anger coursed through his frame. Anger and hatred for his oh so mighty and completely incompetent leader who led him straight into this lovely predicament he was in now, for the pathetic, whiny Autobots who had the audacity to chain him to the berth in his tiny-claustrophobic-inducing cell, but most of his anger and hatred was aimed at himself. If he had only listened to his instinct and redirected the final attack…. Agh! He would not be here, would not be held in some high-risk security hold on Cybertron, knowing, oh that was the worst…. Knowing that his weak-minded enemies had won the war. Knowing that at any moment they would come for him, force him to stand trial for his crimes….. A shudder of suppressed fear raddled Starscream's frame. Everything would come out in the open, everything. He knew nothing would be spared, not the slightest of detail will be parted with. Surely they would sentence him to death… The Stockades were too kind for him. Oh how that was the worst part of knowing….

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_~*~ And I've tried_

_Everything but suicide _

_But it's crossed my mind ~*~_

"I've tried," Starscream's voice barely above that of a gently whisper, his optics dulled to scarlet, his beaten and broken frame leaning heavily against the mountainous boulder, "I've tried."

"You've tried what, Starscream?" the deep rumble from the larger mech in front of him enticed the defeated seeker to look up, his dulled scarlet mingling with a shocking electric blue.

"I- I don't," he paused, his raspy voice glitching in effort to continue, "I tried… honestly. I countered it… for-forced it from my pr-pro-processer…. Smothered it with anger, with ha-hatred… But it kept coming back."

"What did?" Electric blue optics peered critically, indecisively at the damaged seeker and for a moment it had seemed if Starscream had fallen into stasis, but after a moment, another whisper met strained audios.

"I tried everything Prime," Starscream paused again as his intakes shuddered under strain, his non-vital processors and circuits beginning to off-line one by one. With failing strength Starscream continued, "Everything…. But suicide…."

Optimus dropped to kneel before his fallen enemy, a flash of sympathy crossing those electric blue optics, his large hand coming to rest on the downed seeker's shoulder. Starscream initially flinched away from the contact but, with no strength to shrug away the hand, he let it rest were it lay.

"Whatever may be ailing you, Starscream, you will overcome it. You are a strong mech…" Optimus was silenced by a shake of Starscream's head.

"No… Yo-you've no idea….. how many times it's…. crossed… my… mi-mind."

Low on energon and in such a critical condition, Starscream allowed himself to succumb to stasis lock.

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**SingMyLullabySweet666:** Thanks for reading! Please review! OH! I'm working on a real dozzy one-shot for the next chapter so you better stay turned. Bye!


	8. Gift of His Grace

**SingMyLullabySweet666:** I was actually inspired by a movie called **The Other Boleyn Girl**. It's a fantastic movie! Anyway, I was watching it when this little plot bunny decided to run rampage in my head. I've thought over this particular one for a while, trying to place mechs into roles that I thoughts would be most interesting. It was hard but I liked the outcome. I will most definitely expand on this idea in later chapters but for now, I merely wrote down the concept of what I was going for. Anyway, hope you enjoy this! I posted two one-shot chapters to this idea!

**Chapter Warnings:** Slight Angst, Very Mild Cursing (like one word), Darkish Theme, AU!!! (big time), and OOC.

**Chapter Rating:** T

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It was the situation in which he found himself hurled unceremoniously into without consent that had been the start of his own suffering. He, a seeker of no particular marvelous forth-bringing, no upstanding hidden talents; he who was of no special title, who virtually came from an absolute surety of filth not fitted for the very pedes of his Grace. It made him contemplate the very sanity of his Lord to which he had chosen him above all other mechs and femmes, much to his disinclination, for he had so kindly beforehand turned down this particular offer only to realize later that his caretakers had forgone his animosity at being viewed as he was and gracefully, without a care in the world, handed him over to the Court's clutches as if it were nothing more than bargaining for energon in the low markets of Vos. It affronted him to no end but who was he to so viciously throw away an opportunity as it presented itself for his caretakers to receive much appraisal and gratitude from the Lord himself. He was not, by any means, selfish in such an un-honorable sense.

So it was now in which he found himself lead through a labyrinth of well polished flooring and high decorated walls. His chassis, though in its own right beautiful, or so he had been told by many since he was but a youngling, was freshly waxed and polished, thusly allowing it to virtually gleam in the lights that lined all corners of the palace. His head remained bowed, tilted only enough to keep the mech in front of him within sight so as not to lose his way, but that was all. He, in all rights, did not belong in such a place as he was now; he was nothing and it had been drilled into his processor, until his Grace had visited upon them no more than a breem ago, that he would remain so and he was perfectly contented to just be a nothing, though, as he studied his surrounding, he knew such a, in his words only, for any mech would give their very life in order to receive such attention as he did from their Lord, 'prosper future' was all but lost to him.

It was no time at all when the labyrinth finally came to a halt at a two more than twice his height, the emerald blue color gleaming electric in the phosphorescent lights close by. The mech who had served as his new caretaker and guide gently knocked on the door and a gentle rumble of "Enter" answered from behind the majestic door. So they did and it was at that moment that all conversation stopped as optics bypassed his guide only to fall directly onto him as both he and his guide bowed gracefully.

"Who is this?" It was not the deep, almost soothing, rumble of the voice that made his spark pulsate with apprehension but the hint of both morbid curiosity and guarded suspicion. He had neither the courage nor the will to answer so his guide bowed once more before speaking for him.

"He was appointed by his Lordship personally to be placed here in your Court, your highness." And with those spoken words, the mech left his side to take his place in the mechs aligning one side of the wall. The seeker remained passive, his optics cast upon the polished floor, his helm bowed in what he knew to be respect, for one as holy as his Highness should not, by the rules of the Circuit, have to view upon such mech of low status. There was but a moment of silent contemplation before his Highness spoke once more, a fathom of suppressed embitterment lacing through the thick voice.

"Oh? I was not aware I was receiving a new Court member." His Highness paused for a moment to study the silent and submissive seeker presented before him, cerulean blue optics critically calculating every inch of his slender frame. When his Highness spoke again it was with a heated grudge, "No doubt you are a gift from my bondmate then. I will only assume that you are more than a pretty build. Do you have any useful talents?"

"No, your Highness." The seeker spoke, his very frame trembling with shame. He knew without a percentage of doubt that the only reason as to why the Lord would at all view upon such a wretched and forsaken mech as himself was only due to his unfathomable beauty, a beauty which had been rumored to rival that of the Highness, himself.

"Is that so? No talents? I do not believe you, seeker. Surely you must be good for something. Perhaps you are gifted in the arts?" His Highness continued forth, a growing malice enlacing itself into his words.

"No, your Highness." The shame only seemed to heightened as his Highness only seem to grow more malicious and envious of him for the seeker knew that his highness knew all too well as to why such a lowly mech like himself could make it to Court.

"Surely you must be gifted in performance?"

"No, your Highness."

"Then you must be able to sing." It was not a question but more of a statement, but to his audios it sounded more of a conformation to his Highness's suspicion and growing begrudging toward his very presence.

"I cannot sing, yo-" his words were cut off as his Highness spoke once more causing him to fall instantly silent.

"Do not be modest, seeker. Sing." It was an order and one in which he dreaded fulfilling for he was true to his words, he could not sing. It was not that he the audacity to disregard such a noble art of voice but it was just that, noble. He was a low mech, filth even, and he did not have the currency nor the rights to learn such a talent as that of voice, it was not a priority for him.

However, before he could further shame himself and that of his caretakers, for his caretakers and placed a great amount of trust into him, and for their sake he did not wish to disappoint neither his Grace nor his bondmate, they were interrupted as a mech cross threshold into the Highness's parlor, his dark blue frame bowing with respect.

"To what do we owe this interruption?"

"Forgive my interruption but his Lordship wishes you to grace him with your presence."

"Oh? Did he specify as to the occasion?"

"No, your Highness."

A silence over the Court to which the young seeker was grateful for, for it had taken all attention off him for but a moment, allowing his spark to slow to a more steady and rational pulse. He knew his humiliation would not come to an end, not as long as he remained within the palace walls. He was not welcomed here, and if it were not for his Grace he would willingly leave this place, but such a thought was treacherous so he pushed it to the back of his processor.

"So be it then. Inform my bondmate that I will be with him in but three kilks. Dismissed, Soundwave."

"As you command, your Highness." With that, the dark mech bowed once more before taking his leave.

There was a moment in which everything seemed stilled, suspended in time, almost bordering upon lifeless, but it was interrupted as his Highness moved from his chair to stand before the shamed seeker, whose helm remained bowed, optics seemingly frozen on the now blue pedes that had suddenly, and without much warning, invaded his optical range.

"What is your designation?"

For a moment, the seeker seemed as though he was not going to reply before the answer, though not of desire, was given.

"Why would one as so holy as yourself wish to know the designation of such a low filthy mech as myself?"

The large mech in front of him frowned for a moment, clearly displeased with the seeker at not receiving a desired answer. He answered nonetheless, the malicious grudge still evident in his rumbling voice, "I merely wish to know the designation of the harlot to whom will be warming my bondmate's berth."

The young seeker visibly flinched at the insult. It seemed that his Highness knew all too well as to the reason he had been offered a place in such a Court, appointed by none other the Lord himself. The seeker's spark pulsed as a wave of mixed feeling encompassed him; shame, humiliation, but all others, he could not help himself but feel for the Lord's bondmate. Here, in his own Court stood the one mech that would ultimately bed the Lord and hopefully produce an heir to the throne, something that had seemingly driven the once much in love couple viciously apart.

It was with those feelings that the seeker could not but bend to the mech's command.

"I am known as Starscream, your Highness."

The large mech nodded before he stormed from the room, leaving the young seeker in the presence of the Highness's Court.

It was the situation he found himself in that brought upon his suffering, but even more so brought upon the wrath and maliciousness of the Highness of Cybertron. He, an unworthy mech cast into the middle of a feud between the Highness and the Lord; he who had been given a responsibly so undesired, so unwanted…. His spark churned in shame. He was not worthy but he could not go against his Grace. It would be suicide. But he neither wanted to destroy his Highness from the inside out. It would leave him feeling as nothing short of a murderer. But he had not a voice in this decision; he was to produce and heir to the throne. That was his responsibility, his only duty. It made his very frame burn with shame.

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**SingMyLullabySweet666: **Just to clarify things, a Court, in my own version (so it most likely will not be accurate... at all), is the collection of person(s) with a wide knowledge of essential and useful talents, such a being a seamstress or can sing for the King's or Queen's entertainment. In my version, participants in the Court come from well-to-do or are of medium wealth status and have had trained and practiced under a instructional teacher on proper ediquette and things of that nature. Furthermore, in my version, the person must be appointed from either the King or his advisors, though they must be approved by a King. Anyway, that's it for now. Review please!


	9. Torn Apart by Conception

**SingMyLullabySweet666:** GASP! This chapter remarkably doesn't have Starscream in it! (faints) lol Anyway, this is a continuation of _Gift of His Grace_. Enjoy!

**Chapter Warnings:** AU, OOC, Dark Themes, Angst, Mentions of MPREG!

**Chapter Rating:** T

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It was indescribable as to how he felt as he stared down at the mech sitting rather comfortably across from his poised position on one of the long benches adorning their elaborate chambers. Despite the absence of words, he had still managed to bring about one that seemed to place everything into a seductive, albeit morbid, painting. In all his years at his bondmate's side, he had never before felt such a seething malevolence, such a consuming treachery. He knew the situation, knew the position his sparkmate was in, but he could, though in all consideration had no desire to; not come to comprehension just what his mate had the audacity to do. It was too much for his spark to take. There was no turning back, no bring of peace.

Tension was thick between them, as it had been for the last vorn. And he was turn. On one side, a voice told him that he was being replaced, that he no longer could captivate his bondmate, could no longer please. It told him that the filth, that wretched harlot that was placed into his Court was there to serve but one purpose and one purpose only. It tortured him to no end. One the other side, a voice, so deeply suppressed it seemed as if nothing more than a whisper, so muffled he could barely hear it anymore. It told him things could still be mended; that the love that once bound them could be resurrected. It whispered endearingly sweet things, senseless things, and dreams; that part of his spark filled him with hope, false hope, but hope nonetheless.

Cerulean blue looked deep into the dark crimson abyss that belonged to his mate. His mate. A mech once desirable in all aspects, a mech who had promised him everything, promised to always love, that no matter how dire the situation became, he would never leave. He knew now they were tender lies and empty promises for sitting in front of him was a mech so consumed with a dark hatred for him he saw nothing else, and it shone so dauntingly in those vacant and cold crimson seas.

"-mus," the deep reverberating sound of his mate's voice shook him from his oppressive thoughts, effectively breaking the thick suffocating silence that had befallen them for more than a breem.

"Forgive me, my Grace. I seemed to have been deeper in thought than I had previously thought."

"Perhaps you should think less in my presence. You know I do not like to repeat myself." Insulted. That was how it was now. At every turn his beloved would waste no opportunity to insult him, debase him as if he were still a mere sparkling. He took it with stride, he would not succumb to his mate's desires to see him break.

"Please, for my sake, repeat once more."

"I said I wish for you to look after and protect your new Court member, beloved."

He could barely restrain himself from flinching. It was an order, one he could not follow through with. He did not want to displease his mate anymore that he already had, but what choice did he have. His mate was still Lord of Cybertron.

"Why?" the demand for satisfaction slipping past his lips before his processor caught it. The narrowing of those crimson seas only served to remind him to no end that he was no longer dealing with the mech he once cherished, but a vacant shell of what former glory there used to be.

"You will obey me, Optimus. I will not have you question my decisions." His voice was laced with a building agitation, one that Optimus had grown used to, as it was projected at him on more counts than not.

"I have every right to question your decisions, my Lord. He is nothing more than some harlot that you scrap from the lowest pit. He is nothing, filth even. I do not wish to stress myself with having to look upon his wretched face cycle after cycle for own bemuse-" Optimus was silence as a large silver hand crashed against his face, his helm snapping to the side from the force of the strike.

"Silence! You will not disrespect me! I may be your bondmate and I may be tied to you in more ways than one may count, but above all I am Lord Megatron, Ruler of Cybertron first and foremost. You will obey me, as your Lord I command it of you." Megatron hissed, his tone pitching from the barely restrained fury.

"Forgive me, I meant no disrespect. I am merely… dejected." Optimus spoke, his voice small, barely heard by the strained audios of his mate. Megatron mused over Optimus's choice in words before he turned away from his distressed mate, optics staring at every but the mech before him.

"You have no reason to be. You are not being replaced."

The words did little to comfort him. He knew he would never, could never, be replaced by anyone. The Circuit would never allow Megatron to destroy the bond they shared; it would be dangerous to do so. Despite this knowledge, it did nothing to ease the ache in his spark. Just the thought of that seeker touching any inch of his mate, made his want to purge his tanks. It was so vile, so unorthodox. It was his entire fault.

"Then wh-"

"You know exactly why." The question no longer had to be voiced anymore. It was depressing to know so.

"I am your mate, Megatron."

"My mate you will stay," Megatron informed him, his face etched into a frown at the lack of title to his name but allowed it to slip for the time being. Even though he had dimmed his bond to Optimus, he could still feel the constricting torment his spark was in. "However, I require an heir to the throne. You know this."

"I have given you plenty of heirs, my Grace. It is not my doing nor wish for Primus to take them so early."

"I have never blamed you, Optimus." And so the lies continued.

"I am tired, my Grace. I wish to recharge." He couldn't argue anymore. It was utterly pointless.

"Go then."

Optimus stood and crossed the short distance between him and Megatron, leaning down to place a kiss to the top of his mate's helm before leaving for one of the adjourning doors to the chamber. With a last glance over his shoulder, Optimus entered the room, disappearing behind a large grey door as it closed.

Perhaps Megatron would one day relent and adhere to his mate's silent suffering; perhaps he would finally produce a heir to the throne that would not be stolen from him mere solar cycles after birth. They were nothing more than conceptions, but it was the last thing that floated through Optimus's processor before his systems offlined for recharge. Perhaps… but perhaps not.

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**SingMyLullabySweet666:** Hope you enjoyed it. I will be developing on this at some point in the future. For now, please leave a review. Thanks for reading!


	10. Detached

**SingMyLullabySweet666**: This is sort of a follow up to _Chapter 1_. Enjoy!

**Chapter Warning:** Angst, Light Swearing (again, like one word), Dark Theme

**Chapter Rating:** T

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_~*~ Life dies inside a person when there are no others willing to be-friend him._

_He thus gets filled with emptiness and a non-existent sense of self-worth. –Mark R. J. Lavoie ~*~_

He barely left his chamber anymore couldn't bring himself to do so. He knew there wasn't a point to, no reason for him to venture further into the obsolete halls. They had made it so painstakingly clear during his forced attendance to what had been the revelation he so desperately tried to ignore. He could be blind no longer. None desired to be around him, to even gaze upon his frame. Therefore, he wouldn't burden them with doing so.

After his revelation, he tried, so foolishly tried to be-friend others, to make them see him, to become somebody. He had, like so many things in his worthless existence, failed. His subtle words, meek actions, and submissive gestures were only greeted by the fierceness of a seething hatred from all. He was not welcomed among any clicks. He had even change his ways so unconditionally to the point where not even he, himself, could recognize what he had been or who he was anymore. It didn't work. In truth, it only seemed to make the situation in which he found himself in worse than what it had been, for the others quickly grew suspicious, weary even. They had confronted Prime and Megatron about it. He was immediately investigated upon; forced to undergo a period of close observation. He stopped trying after that.

So he now sat in his apathetic chamber, the lightening dimmed to that of the faintest glow. His dulled, almost lethargic, optics staring unseeingly at the opposite, though empty, wall of his chamber, his frame deflated with listlessness. His internal alarms screamed for attention, red signals flaring across his vision warning of imminent stasis lock if he did not immediately refuel. Slowly, he moved away from the berth and towards the door, towards his cruel and unforgiving peers, towards his miserable life… He opened his chamber door and stepped out into the hall. Without a conscious thought, he forced himself to move in the direction of the rec. room. He only wanted to silence the blaring alarms. Nothing more.

He had made it half way when he saw a mech approach him from the opposite direction. It took him but a moment for his clouded processor to place a face with a name. Thundercracker. His dead spark twisted in silent agony as the distance between himself and the blue seeker grew non-existent.

_Notice me_.

It was all he needed. A tilt of the helm. A glance. A glare. Something. Anything. He just needed reassurance that someone, anyone still knew he functioned. Still took the effort to notice such worthless slag.

_Please. Notice me._

They passed one another in the dead of silence. He could have collapsed in pure anguish as his blue wing mate waltzed by, never once noticing the desperate look on the other's face. Thundercracker didn't even bother to greet him. He didn't even care. Didn't try to…. Didn't want to.

He was invisible.

He entered the rec. room silently, much like a shadow. No one looked up as he entered, nor as he claimed a cube of energon. No one cared as he walked forlornly to his lowly table in the still poorly lit corner of the rec. room.

Just as he was about to sip his energon, the door to the rec. room opened and his optics automatically, as if searching for anyone to remind him he was functioning, glanced toward the sound. The cube stopped mere centimeters from his mouth as Skyfire casually strolled into the room, his large white frame relaxed, his optics bright and sharp, his lips tilted upward in a small content smile.

His spark clenched once more.

_Look at me._

Skyfire casually greeted some the mechs near him as he grabbed a cube of energon…

_See me._

….and began to walk towards a table in the back of the rec. room…..

_Please._

…. One which sat no more than a few feet away from the broken ex-Air Commander.

_Notice me!_

But he never was…. Like always. Skyfire only sat there, his massive frame turned away from him. He was once more ignored, once more overlooked. Once more he was reminded that he was so entirely alone.

He was silently drowning in his own abyss and no one even bothered to notice. But he couldn't blame them. He hated himself as well.

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**SingMyLullabySweet666**: Hoped you enjoyed! Please review!


	11. Decepticon

**SingMyLuallbySweet666:** This was inspired by the short story **Girl** by Jamaica Kincaid. It's written in her style, which escapes me for the moment. I had fun writting it. Umm... if you get confused, don't worry, it was intentional. This drabble is suppose to make you think. :P The style provide _two_ povs, the one written in regular text, and the one answering in italics. Anyway, I hope you enjoy.

**Chapter Rating:** T

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Coward before your leader on this day for his temper is at its limit and there is no reason to seek out an audience with the med bay; betray the same leader on another day when he is

careless and forgets to look over his shoulder, the reward will be divine; don't allow your plan to backfire because the consequences will not be forgiving; give your subordinates reasons

to fear you; suppress the urge to flee under the glowering fury of your commander, you should not appear weak despite your pleas for mercy; always fight with a vendetta, without one,

the fight loses meaning; never drop your guard; do not linger on one thought for long, there is mech who will report you before you realize your mistake; always fight back even if you are

destined to lose; trust your instinct; do not rush into battle without a plan, and always steer away from the two who resemble each other in appearance; do not act on impulse, _but I_

_never rush into battle for any reason and who would, in their right mind, even come close to the Terrible Twins_; this is how you glide; this is how you soar; this is how you fly; this is how you

fire at your enemies with precision; this is how you dodge Jet Judo; this is how you kill without mercy; when you do manage to kill without mercy, be sure to have no regrets later; this is

how you fight in hand-to-hand combat; this is how you make a quick and clean kill; this is how you laugh while insane with power; this is how you laugh while you lose yourself to the

carnage; this is how you genuinely laugh; this is how you destroy someone's life, because as a Decepticon, that should be your main priority; this is how you destroy hundreds of lives;

this is how you forget what you are fighting for; this is how you slowly kill yourself from the spark out; this is how you curse Primus's name for allowing such suffering to befall upon you,

despite doing nothing to earn it; this is how you sabotage your commander's plan; don't allow yourself to feel pity; don't allow yourself to feel anything, you are not an Autobot, you

know; don't become useless, useless mechs are replaced; don't lose sight of your goal; this is how you interface with a femme; this is how you interface with a mech; this is how

Megatron interfaces with you; this is how you loathe a mech; this is how you despise a mech; this is how you feign love for a mech so that you may gain their good graces; this is how

you stab that mech in the back when you have what you wanted to obtain; this is how you conceive a sparkling; this is how you get rid of a sparkling so no one knows you made a

mistake; this is how you hide your mistakes; this is how you exploit your commander's mistakes; this is how you taunt your leader; this is how you become the most notoriously hated

mech of all on both sides of the battlefield; _but what if I'm not the most notoriously hated mech of both factions_; you mean to say that after all that, you won't be the Decepticon who has no

place on or in either faction?

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**SingMyLullabySweet666:** I really hope you enjoyed this drabble. I've been wanting to one like this for a while. Well, please review!


	12. Sufferance

**SingMyLullabySweet666:** I was finally inspired by something. lol Actually, I kind of picked a random word from the dictionary, and wrote a small drabble on it. :P Anyway, I'm rather pleased how it came out. Enjoy!

_Please not that I used the second definition for my drabble._

**Chapter Warnings:** Heavy Angst

**Chapter Rating:** T

**Character in Reference:** Starscream

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_Sufferance: 1) Passive tolerance: by absence of objection rather than by express permission._

_2) Capacity to endure pain, misery, etc._

It came like thunder pursuing the prestigious brilliance of light in the shadow of the raging storm. It came upon blackened chariots in the grim of death, the Reaper ever so present with a wicked sinister grin. It burned through essence without forbearance; consuming all so deeply in a mania of uncontrolled hostility.

It simply was. Simply is.

It coursed through his energon lines with the ferocity of the apocalypse. It churned in him, fed him life; fed his very will. It alone kept him existing, functioning; allowed him to simply be.

Without it, he would fall into his sinister madness. He would walk from his ever erosive path, lose his way and become only a mere memory, a forgotten victim. His world would cave around him. Drown his will to fly. He would be no more.

It was a hard walk, one not meant for the hollows, for the ones so inadequate they, in themselves, knew not who they were anymore. Such burdens that grudgingly captivated you, tried to bend you, break you at the moment's turn. You lived in suffering, survived on agony, thrived in defeat, and endured in death. Misery became you. You, in turn, became the very being of desolation.

Such, indeed, was not meant for the feeble.

But he alone pushed forth, for he walked the hard walk. He would not crumble, could not. He alone endured.

It was instinct for him.

His silent sufferance.

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**SingMyLullabySweet666:** I hope you enjoyed, please leave a review.


	13. Measured Blame

**SingMyLullabySweet666:** This is a sequel to _Torn Apart by Conception_. This is written with Megatron's POV in mind. I'm sorry if it seems off, but he's hard to write in a way. I wanted to keep him in character some but at the same time, this is clearly an AU..... (sigh) I probably could have done better but I still like the way it came out. Anyway, enjoy.

**Chapter Warnings:** AU!, Angst, Mpreg

**Chapter Rating:** T

**Character(s) in Reference:** Megatron (POV), Optimus (focus), Starscream (hinted)

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_Time Units:_

_Cycle: 1.25 Earth Hours_

_Deca-cycle: 3 Earth weeks_

_Vorn: 83 Earth Years_

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With rehearsed steps, his mate retreated into the refuge of their bedded chamber, his apparent last self-defense, his only standing shield to blind him so witlessly to the apathetically calloused truth. It had become their mundane ritual, their ceaseless morbid ballet. He, whom so tastelessly and mercilessly tore into his conquered mate's societal wounds, his unveiled scars until his mate was torn asunder from the pressure, the absolute fatigue of it all and his mate, so gifted was he in beauty (but what is beauty but a curse) fought back with such deadly refinement in abject jealously, though so rightfully placed. They clashed together, each struggling to over-power the other. A ceaseless morbid ballet, indeed.

Optimus. His mate. So many words to which he could so casually place upon his chosen's name. He was wondrously beautiful: Contrasting colors of the burning fire that nipped at the heels of his kingdom and the frigid air of the lustful dawn in a endlessly stalemate for dominance as they roped into one another as it laced intricate patterns up and down his mate's strong, powerful chassis. With such beauty came the ability of voice: A deep soothing bass that entranced the very core of a mech; so much so that his mate could continue tirelessly in a state of exclamation but few, if any, would have the care to shush him. He was brave; he was careless. He was gentle, yet abrasive. Calm, yet passionate.

He was perfectly flawed.

It was his one and only flaw, the thorn inside of him that tore at him for vorns. He had failed in his duty as a mate, his one and only duty as a mate. They had tried, primus forgives them; they had tried. Optimus conceived well-enough the first time, and took a motherly pride in caring for the un-sparked spark he carried within him. Unfortunately, no-more than a deca-cycle into the carrying, complications arose and the spark was lost. A deep scathing wound seared his mate's very soul. He allowed Optimus the appropriate grieving period; comforted Optimus's injured core when it became necessity; he played his role until Optimus agreed to once more try. A bitter success. The sparkling was carried to term and sparked without complications. Optimus could barely contain the bursts of joy and winsome that seemingly unconsciously filtered through their bond. He too lost himself to his own enlightened joy of his heir's birth. In the wake of celebration, catastrophe followed. He had awoken to his mate's spastic bursts of fear, horror, and denial in their bond. When he finally found his mate, Optimus had collapsed to his knees from the sheer overwhelming of disbelief, his large frame rocking as he cradled their sparkling to his chest plates, revving his engines harshly…. It was of no use. Their sparkling had passed. Assassination.

To count, they had lost seven sparklings total. Each time, the wounds took longer and longer to overcome. It was the thorn that broke them.

Optimus became a former shell of his once eccentric etiquette. Where he was confident, he was now doubtful. He was once optimistic, now he only saw the dreary. Once omniscient; now blind. Accepting; now faithless. Where he was perfect, he was only a mere flaw. And he, who was suppose to protect his mate, to shield him from the existence of pain, of loss, could only find savage satisfaction in placing the blame upon his burdened mate. It eased the ache, the suffocating weariness that consumed his processor….

The sound of the bedding chamber door opening tore him from his weary thoughts as he glanced across the room at his defeated mate.

"What is it?"

"I merely wish to know if my mate would join me." Optimus forced out, his oppressive blue optics desperately searching out for their counterpart's.

"I have business to attend to." Short. Simple. Harsh.

"Do not neglect me."

"I am not neglecting you, beloved. I must see to it that my consort has settled in."

Optimus visually bristled at his mate's answer. Dejected and anguished, he went to fight back.

"Surely, I am more important than some filthy har-"

"Hush, Optimus," Megatron commanded, his scarlet optics narrowing at the insult directed towards his consort. "I will come to you in a cycle. Understood."

With rehearsed steps, his mate retreated into the refuge of their bedded chamber, his apparent last self-defense, his only standing shield to blind him so witlessly to the apathetically calloused truth. It had become their mundane ritual, their ceaseless morbid ballet.

* * *

**SingMylullabySweet666:** I hope you enjoyed it. Please R&R!


	14. Mercy in Black

**SingMyLullabySweet666:** Here's another chapter for ya. Not much to say, so I hope you enjoy.

**Chapter Warnings:** Angst, slight swearing

**Chapter Rating:** T (to be safe)

**Character(s) in Reference:** 1) Guess.... seriously, it's not who you think it is. ~_^ 2) Ratchet and Starscream (don't ask).

**Song(s) Used:** 1) Mercy - Sarah McLachlan. 2) Black - Sarah McLachlan.

* * *

_~*~ Mercy - pure and simple_

_Longing - cold and hollow ~*~_

Slowly, his crippled frame fell to a respectful and utterly perfect bow, exhausted and grieved optics shuttered in silent prayer and in the troubled silence, he, for the first time in many vorns, asked for forgiveness, for a semblance of mercy.

"I am not asking to be free from my maddening world, nor is this a plea to be purged of my sins, for it was those very sins that made me into the mech who, so defeated, has succumbed to the deceiving blackness until no longer able to see, for I am now blind to my path, to any path…. I know I am a troubled spark and the life I have live was hollow, meaningless, and desolate in every sense…. I know I have lost my way… but….. I just…. I crave a moment of silent mercy, something to let me know I am not so utterly lost that I, myself, have come to believe. I cannot be that far gone…. I…."

With no words left, with weltering hope, he bathed in the silence of his defeat. If he had the strength, a slither of will left in his depleted and yielding frame, he would laugh himself into madness at the absurdity that he found himself in. He, born of the wicked and so has lived, holed away on the hollow grounds of the holy temple seeking relief from his mercenaries, his so righteous murderers. This crumbling shrine was all but his last shield in the wake of his sins that called upon him. But here, amongst the forgotten decadence of his holiness, he could no more wish away the suffocating longing to be forgiven, to be set free from his oppressing burdens. It was foolish to pray…. Irrational to even try.

* * *

_~*~ If I cried me a river of all my confessions_

_Would I drown in my shallow regret ~*~_

"You have murdered countless innocents."

"It was not mindless murder."

"Then what does you call it?"

"It was a glorious crime of passion."

"I see no passion in your crime."

"Of course not! You autobits would never be able to comprehend the intoxicating power that sears through your energon lines as you mercilessly slaughter the weak."

"So power consumed you so completely that you felt the need to senselessly kill those who could not defend themselves?"

"No, one cycle I woke from recharge and thought 'Today I wish to be an artist. I wish to paint Cybertron's walls with the blood of the meek."

"It was nothing but a sickening display of wasted life."

"You make it sound so negative."

"Only because it's a coward's way of fighting."

"The only cowards present were those who begged endlessly for their lives. They were always the funniest to slay."

"It was nothing more than brute savagery."

"You're simplistic sappy view of sentiment bores me, Doc."

"Your disregard for sentiment life in general makes me want to…"

"Tsk, tsk, doc… It would not do you good to threaten your patient."

"I don't make ideal threats."

"Careful. That's dangerous thinking."

"Do you regret any of the lives you have callously taken?"

"Smooth."

"Just answer the fragging question!"

"Perhaps…. Perhaps not."

"I'm going to take your hesitant answer as a yes."

"You would like that, wouldn't you Doc?"

"Then you don't regret any of it then."

"Doc, I could sit here and spill my life's confessions to you, but I won't…. I regret some things, but they are shallow. A fleshling wouldn't even be able to drown in its tiny puddle."

"I believe we are done for the day."

* * *

**SingMyLullabySweet666:** I hope you enjoyed. Please review.


	15. Quoted Drabbles?

**SingMyLullabySweet666:** Another installment. I hope you enjoy!

**Chapter Warning(s):** Slight Angst, Silght Dark Themes

**Chapter Rating:** T

**Character(s) in Reference:** Both the first and second drabbles are **MEAGTRON**. 3rd is **STARSCREAM.**

* * *

_~*~ The road to Hell is ordered by the righteous,_

_planned by the well-meaning,_

_and paved with their good intentions –Cherish in Wonderland ~*~_

They who sat so agreeably in their pristine ostentatious rooms of décor, so painted in the vibrant colors of wealth, of free-being, of the luscious riches they so denied their neighbors. They of all so righteous well doers, of the vastness of purity; who saw with virtuous optics and dispelled none, whom claimed they could do no wrong…. They who governed, who sought over and dictated… They who began this revolution, this epiphany.

I will leave them as defenseless as they have us. I will tear from them their voices; ripe asunder their vocal capacitors as to mute their false asseverations, to end all their convictions and lies. I shall pierce and rend useless their blasphemous optics to which had so blindly led them astray. They will know the path to which they had created, the path they intended for us to follow, the path of well-meaning to which all were to stumble down carelessly, listlessly. They will be no more than silent, hollow, vacant shells of our once oppression, our once demanding sovereignty.

They thought none would revolt, none who challenge, call vengeance on those who led us to our destruction. They thought none would shun their good intentions, their meant-well warrants…

They thought wrong, for I have seen their injudicious ways that have led us straight to the pit… I have seen it all first hand.

I intend to challenge their every word, their every intention… I intend to bring us to rightful glory. Let this be known as my unspoken truth.

* * *

_~*~ I don't stay in the darkness so that people can't find me,_

_but to see who's brave enough to look for me –dancingwolf ~*~_

This solemn silence, this thickened blackness of suffocating madness… it is nothing more than my shadow. I am not one to dwell within the light, nor am I so ignorant a fool that I believe that this night is something more. No. The darkness that surrounds me is my own special hell. It is my relief and my misery. I have dwelled within this silence for far too long…. This nightmare has become me and so forth I have become my own oppression.

Yet, make no mistake fool. This stillness is neither my sanctuary nor my prisoner. I am not trapped here; there are no demons to haunt my core, no erosive thoughts that weigh burden upon my processor… Nor is this a sanctuary from my sorrows, from my sins. It is only a mere presence in which I am most comfortable in. I may leave at any given moment, relish in the ignorance…

I simply choose to not relinquish my hold on this oppressive quietude. No…. It is so much more entertaining to see who stumbles upon my hidden domain; who would allow themselves to, so carelessly, be lead into their own personal destruction. I find much pleasure in the sheer look of terror in my victim's optics as I impel forth, the deep nothingness at my back, my own bleeding optics their last image… Yes…. It is so much more fun to see who is foolish enough, though they would claim it be bravery that brought them upon me, to seek me out. Their deaths are that much amusing.

* * *

_~*~ When all around you is pointless,_

_and all who know you are heartless,_

_all you feel is fury –Nic Edwards ~*~_

He suffered from no madness. No fathom unbalance. No disordered lunacy. He was not as ego-statistical as others made him out to be. Nor was he as narcissistic. He was not barren in processor, nor was he, nor will he ever be, as trifling as his leader played him out to be. He was not delusive. Nor did he only dream to aspire. He was not gilded by failed attempts for self-satisfaction. And when punished, he felt no humiliation. He had never before felt hollow. Nor did he feel it now. He did now crumble to insults. He did not crack at the first cast of the stone. He was not weak. Nor did he play himself to be overwhelming. He saw no point to the raging war around him. Nor did he see an end in sight. He was not sparkless. He was not damned. He had not lost his way. Nor had he stumbled along his path.

He was none of these things

No…. He was simply, is such simple words, in a world of fury.

* * *

**SingMyLullabySweet666:** I hoped you enjoyed. Please leave a review to tell me what you think.


	16. Opened to requests and suggestions

Alright…. I'm here on official business because…. (sheepishly) I'm a little low on blot bunnies. -_-

Fret not my fellow writers. I have decided to officially open myself up to suggestions and requests. :P

Please note that I will write all requests first and foremost and suggestions secondly.

There are a few rules I like you to follow though:

1) Please! Please! Please! Be patient when making a suggestion/request. I am currently attending my sophomore year of college and in all truth; I am a rather busy person with classes and homework. I may take awhile to get to it, but don't feel dejected because I won't ignore it.

2) If you want me to write something using a favorite song lyric or a favorite quote or poem, PLEASE include the original source in which you got it from. I would rather not get called into court for not giving credit where credit is due. Furthermore, if you, yourself, are the author/authoress of said _____ then state so, so I can give YOU the credit.

3) Please make it something I can write…. Seriously.

4) If you want me to write something from a certain vantage point, POV, etc. then state so briefly. Just a few words to let me know how you want your request/suggestion written otherwise, I will interpret the material as I see fit.

That's all my rules. So, if you have something then just send it in a review with the following format:

1) State whether it is a suggestion or a request:

2) Your suggestion or request:

3) If credit for material that is not your own (i.e. lyrics/poems/etc.):

4) Any hints on how you want to see it written:

5) Indication of rating (i.e. K,T,M, I don't care... etc.):

Thanks everyone. ;)


	17. Request for Caiann

**SingMyLullabySweet666:** Alright. Here is your request Cai-ann. I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I did writing it. It was difficult at first to figure exactly what to do but once I got into it, I GOT into it. :) Anyway, I really hope you like the outcome.

**Cai-ann's request:** Starscream and Megatron - Linkin Park's New Divide. Where Starscream becomes suicidal after a massive beating from Megatron for no good reason and Megatron finds him. Ending: either A) Megatron stops Starscream and promises to try to respect him instead of abusing him or B) Starscream saves Megatron and dies in the process

**Chapter Warning(s):** Angst, Strong Dark Theme, Suicidal Tendency, Abuse, Violence and Gore

**Chapter Rating:** M

**Character's in Reference:** Starscream, Megatron

**Song Used:** New Divide by Linkin Park. ------ I do not own any lyrics nor do I profit from them. I merely write fantastic things with them. :)

* * *

_~*~ __There was nothing in sight but memories left abandoned ~*~_

From the deaden of the night came a penetrating keen of utter self-loathing and maddening anguish as a decrepit and beaten form crumbled to ground out of sheer weariness. Blazing, cracked optics of scarlet pierced the surrounding darkness, pulsating and flickering in-between bouts of surging rage and humiliation. A large blue fist slammed into the ground, cracking the dry earth beneath under the power. It rose and fell again, and again, and again, each strike against the unforgiving earth below denting the knuckle plating inwards; another piercing wail of suffocating madness tearing forth from a static filled vocalizer as the fist continued to mercilessly pulverize the un-stirring earth. Memories, haunting recollections of the past few cycles flitted through his processor. With each humiliating remembrance, the fist fell harder into the earth.

* * *

Starscream lay on the floor of the bridge trying to overcome his sudden and abrupt sense of vertigo. One moment he had been calmly working on his report of the last battle with the Autobots the previous day when he was suddenly lifted from his station and tossed clear across the room. Just as the world around him began to settle, he was once more lifted from his stilled place on the floor and slammed unforgivably into the wall behind him. Pain snacked up his sport column from the jarring impact, forcing a yelp from his vocalizer.

Just as he was about to vocalize his displeasure of being thrown about, a large servo clenched over his neck, sufficiently cutting off energon flow to his cerebral processor and forcing shut his stuttering vents. He raised his servos, desperately clawing at the hand that had such a deadly hold on his next cables. His optics met that of his assailant before he was lifted away from the wall and hurled once more across the room where he collided with the back of the large, looming throne in the center of bridge, his helm snapping back sharply from the impact to slam against the unmovable alloy. His sore body slid to the ground, his pedes unable to keep him upright. Vents opened with a sudden gush of air as the pressure from around his neck cables disappeared, which left him light-headed and unstable.

"Lo-Lord Mega-tron!" Starscream gasped out, vocalizer tainted with the barest hint of static. Slowly, he pushed himself to his knees, unable to move further as his stabilizers fought to return to normal function. His audios detailed to him that his leader was closing in on his position and a gripping fear of dread overwhelmed his spark. A large servo grasped one of his wings and hauled him to his shaking pedes and his sensors ignite with registered pain. A pitiful whimper escaped him as the claws gripped tighter.

"Lord Megatron!" he pleaded as the tyrant's claws began to puncture the wing in his hold. "Master! What have I done?"

Instead of an answer, Megatron raised his other servo and slammed his fist into the seeker's face, cracking one of the optics in the process from the force. Howling with pain, Starscream struggled to get out of the tyrant's hold, but the more he struggled, the tighter the claws dug into his sensitive wing. The tyrant's fist met his face once more and this time, he let go of the seeker's wing, causing Starscream to stumble backwards into the back of the thrown before crumbling to the ground once more.

Megatron granted the suffering second in command no reprieve as he backhanded the seeker, forcing his entire frame sideways to the floor. Starscream gasp in pain from the blow and sudden meeting of his helm to the floor. Groaning, the seeker moved to sit up but a large pede keep him in place. Metal groaned and the sound of glass shattering was drowned out but a long, agonizing scream as Starscream's cockpit began to buckle inward under the increasing pressure of his mater's pede as he placed more weight onto it.

"Lord Megatron! Please, have mercy!" howled Starscream as his chest plating began to collapse inward on his spark housing. The blinding pain tour through the young seeker's energon lines as the housing cracked from the stress. Vents stuttered from the agony as optics flickered between awareness and blissful oblivion. The pressure gradually increased for a few kilks more before it disappeared altogether, leaving the battered jet in withering agony from the ordeal.

Starscream's false sense of hope that it was over was torn asunder when Megatron reached down and pulled him, once more, to his pedes. Gripping the un-abused wing, Megatron began to twist and pull at it until wet sounds of energon lines ripping in half and a fresh agonized scream tore from Starscream's lips filled the room. Megatron continued to pull on the sensitive appendage until it was barely hanging on by the hinges connecting it to the Air Commander's back. Energon streamed in raging rivulets down the beaten seeker's back, staining it omnisciently pink. Sensors were alight with searing torment, causing Starscream's frame to convulse violently in shock and distress. Megatron released his broken protégé and turned and left the bridge, never once saying a word to the haunted seeker convulsing on the floor.

As abruptly as the attack began, it ended.

* * *

_~*~ There was nowhere to hide, the ashes fell like snow ~*~_

In a sudden burst of insanity, the battered form slammed his blue fist into the earth once more before all the pent of rage and humiliation washed from the mangled frame in a final surge leaving behind nothing but thickening numbness. Blazing optics dulled and deepened to a barely visible crimson as they observed the vastly growing pool of energon beneath his form. Exhaustion swept through the seeker's frame like an inferno, and the mangle form tilted sideways carelessly, plowing straight into the dry, beaten earth below.

Starscream mused solemnly. He had not known what he had done to provoke the attack nor was he able to stop it. He had dropped his guard, allowed a processor-numbing simple-ness to take over, a mundane existence in the moment. He should have known, should have seen this coming. Nothing was ever mundane or simple for the hellion Decepticons; it wasn't in their programming.

He couldn't tell what left a more bitter taste in his spark, the fact that he had ultimately allowed this humiliation, this suffering or the fact the he was helpless, defenseless to stop it. He was weak. Megatron had it right all this time. He was nothing. If he couldn't even defend himself in his own faction, how was he supposed to take down the Autobots? He was disgustingly pathetic, so abhorrently unsound. He could clearly see why so many others question his rise to power, his authority.

Starscream couldn't help but let loose a bitter laugh at the though. Power? Authority? He had nothing more than a wavering title at best. He barely even had that. The others never respected him, disregarded his orders, his words… He was the second highest rank in Megatron's army and he could hardly control his own trine.

Optics dulled at the thought. No one respected him. Not even the very mech who appointed him to Second in Command and Air Commander of the Decepticon army. Megatron. He appointed Starscream because he had claimed that the seeker had much potential, that they needed someone who could formulate strategies, who could develop and enhance weaponry…. It had all been lies. Megatron needed him for nothing. He formulated his own strategies and only inclined for conformation to Soundwave. Oh, he had tried to voice his opinion, make obvious the complete and utter lack of structure in the planning but Megatron had always turned deaf audios his way. The more he tried, the more Megatron grew frustrated…. The more frustrated Megatron got, the more suffering he had to endure. Insult after insult, beating after beating…. He stopped truthfully trying after it all began to be too much.

As for developing and enhancing… That's why they had the Contructicons.

* * *

_~*~ And the ground caved in between where we were standing_

_And your voice was all I heard that I get what I deserve ~*~_

Dark crimson optics lit ablaze with bitter annoyance bore hauntingly into his own scarlet, the massive frame taunt with fury, large clawed servos twitching, convulsive in need to strangle, to beat, to completely lay devastation unto. Megatron's lips curled into an aggravated sneer. Starscream stood at attention though he, in an attempt to parish into the surrounding shadows, slowly, ever so slowly, began to curl away from the beast before him, to hide amongst the night in protection. He had angered his lord once more; hand defied him, made mockery of his army, of him…. This night would be no more pleasant than any other.

So, in a desperate attempt to save himself, he began to grovel.

"Lord Megatron… I meant-"

He found himself in Death's grip the moment he began to stumble for words for his actions, for his betrayal; his weakness.

"I do not want to hear it!" He never did. Starscream only ever spewed beautiful lies from his treacherous lips and his master had had enough.

But it did not stop him from begging. "Plea-"

And then he couldn't think, couldn't breathe. He only saw the shadows creeping closer, felt his processor giving into the forsaken madness of his despair. He would not escape unscathed. He never did. Never would. Such a mindless repetition of a morbid play, and he was doomed to play the leading role until he could function no more.

"Your obsessive compulsion to de-thrown me is distasteful." Megatron hissed, optics narrowing in a forlorn warning. "When will you learn?" His servo tightened and the nightmarish blackness crept ever closer, ever more present. He grew fearful. "You will never take my thrown from me! I am your lord, your master, and you will obey me Starscream."

Pain was all he felt afterwards. Mindless agony that warped his processor into nothing but a mess of static and white noise. He was utterly consumed in his anguish. He had begged, pleaded for mercy… It only made the processor numbing suffering that much stronger, that much sharper.

And when it was all said and done, Megatron's words sang a depressive and morbid tune in his audios for vorns to come.

"You are completely worthless, Starscream."

* * *

_~*~ In every loss, in every lie, in every truth that you'd deny ~*~_

'Megatron is right, I'm utterly worthless.'

A haunted scream broke forth from his weary vocalizer and echoed in the desolate cannon as his numbness washed away in torrents as a fresh wave of wretchedness. For moments on end, he found he could only scream, only had the desire, the will to scream. So he did. It muted the oppressive surrounding silence in a song of misery. It dominated his thoughts, echoed in his spark. He found, as his vocalizer sparked and filled with a shrilling static, that he could not bring himself to care, could not recapture awareness enough to even bother to notice. He screamed until he could no longer, until his vocalizer gave out under such pressure and even then, he found himself enraptured by his silent scream. A silent scream that tormented him more than his own pleas for mercy, his own filthy weakness could…. It was a silent scream in which he had lived his existence in. A silent scream for benevolence. For justification. For condemnation. A silent scream for respect. It made him all the more bitter.

When he became aware of himself once more, he was no longer blessedly numb, but cascaded into a whorl wind of unforgiving emotions so long ago bottled away in the back of his processor where they could no longer plague his thoughts. Despair. Worthlessness. Useless. Anger. Misery. Grief. Anguish. In his epiphany of enlightened emotions, Starscream rose to another: He didn't want to feel. He wanted the processor numbness. He wanted his hollow mask, his un-tainted coldness. It was how he had survived for so many vorns. How he managed to pull himself away from the blessing of the blackness in his recharge. It was how he moved. How he thought. How he was. Not these feelings. Not this suffocating fatal mix of emotion.

Starscream found his frame rocking back and forth, his optics flickering between unthinkable insanity and an infernal of desperation. He needed to become numb. To not think of his failures. In the wake of his slipping reality, his razor-fine talons sunk deeply into the thigh armor plates as the clenched in an uncontrolled need for something. The sound of buckling and metal collapsing snapped Starscream back to reality for a brief moment. Illuminating scarlet looked on his macabre awe as pink energon surfaced to the deep gashes where his talons had dung in moments before. As his life essence slowly trickled to the surface, he felt strangely calm, more at peace with himself. There was no pain, only a sickening relief.

Lips twisted upwards in a diseased smile as talons were studied in horrid fascination before one was brought to an undamaged servo. Starscream flexed his talons for a moment before resting it softly on the plating of his servo. With callous and demanding satisfaction, Starscream tore into his servo, pushing his talons deeper and deeper into the circuitry before the viciously, without a care, shredded through flowing energon lies. Starscream purred in twisted contempt as the wet sounds of energon lines ripping and the screeching of metal plundered his audio receptors. It was a bitter relief as copious amounts of vital energon seeped past his still forceful talons to cascade down the length of his servo and began dripping of the tips of his other talon.

Starscream pushed his talon deeper into his opposing servo and, with the tips of the claws, gripped whatever circuitry he could and then pulled. A sickening sound of circuits tearing from their welded and bolted positions blasted the vacant cannon around him as he continued to pull with all his might. Moments later, the tarnished circuits tore forth from his armor in a nauseating display of splashing energon and shredded parts. Energon, no longer hindered by his own talon, streamed forth in a waterfall of life essence, staining most of the damaged servo a delicious pink in its wake.

Blaring alarms flashed before Starscream's optics, warning of severe damage and critical energon leaks. They fell upon blind optics as the talon rose once more.

* * *

~*~_ And each regret and each goodbye was a mistake too great to hide ~*~_

Large pedes touched nearly silently in the deserted cannon, not far from the central target. The nearly towering frame rattled with a deep revving of the engine and the slight stuttering of vents to cool the somewhat over heated form. A sweeping of a scanner indicated that the one he had been forced to track down was no more than a hundred meters away, obscured by large boulder. Vents heaving in an aggravated sigh of annoyance, the massive bulk of a form moved forward, stalking silently in the night, steps barely thundering against the dry, caked earth.

'My treacherous second best know he will be severely punished for leaving the base unannounced.' Megatron's thought processor hissed in anger as he stalked forth and around the protruding boulder. Crimson colored fury swept the landscape for any tail-tale signs of his missing and disobedient air commander.

Crimson optics widened slightly in a flash of surprise as they finally settled on the frame of his protégé. It was not the presence of large collapsed sections of plating or horridly scratched surface that had taken him by storm, but the massive quantity of dripping energon that had nearly stained the entire left servo and a large portion of Starscream's pedes a morbid and sickening pink as well as the nearly meter wide, gaping hole in which the energon gushed forth from. His subordinate's optics flickered with an intense consuming desperation and a startling display of relief.

Upon further studying, Megaton couldn't help but notice that Starscream had not even registered that he was no more a few feet from his crumbled form. Instead, he looked to be in a deep revolting trance as he rose his stained servo, pausing a moment to study the trickling pink essence before he placed it against his cockpit. Megatron was caught between revolting fascination and a deep twisting sense of horror as Starscream, without abandon, plunged his talon into the cockpit. The sound of retching metal filled Megatron's audios as he watched his second hack through vulnerable and delicate circuitry, talon digging deep causing more energon lies to sever. Energon began to stain the front chassis of Starscream's body as the talon was pushed deeper and deeper inside the seeker's body.

What threw Megatron into a bout of confusion was the fact that the seeker never once reacted towards the pain, towards the nearly blinding agony that had to tear through his sensory net like an engulfing inferno. Instead, Starscream's face was a morbid display of contempt and frustration.

He could hear Starscream mutter something from his broken vocalizer before the seeker grasped the edges of his clasped cockpit with both servos; despite the searing torment it most likely caused his second to even move the severely damaged one. He dug his talons deep into the seam of the closed cockpit and pulled. For a moment, it look like the clasped cockpit would resist the pressure but the thick plating relented in a shrill of buckling and crushing metal. Megatron found he was unable to will himself forward and found himself rooted to his spot as Starscream continued to pull apart his chassis, exposing the hidden spark casing and housing underneath. Megatron watched as Starscream continued to pull the plating apart from one another until it began to snap away from the chassis altogether. He watched as the seeker threw the lacerated plating aside and raised his tainted servo once more.

As Starscream placed his stained talon on his spark casing, Megatron once more became aware of the escalating situation once more. With a sudden rush through his vents, Megatron surged forward, just as Starscream's talon tentatively bit into the casing.

Just as Starscream decided he needed something more, something final to give him his relief; a large servo grasped his own stained one and pulled it away from his spark casing. Starscream growled in rage as he was denied his ultimate release of his plaguing and haunting emotions. He fought against the hold on his servo, trashing side to side, heaving with all his unrestrained might but despite his best efforts, the grip on his servo was far too stronger, far too unrelenting. A voice, deep and snarling, so far away tried to reach him but in his blinded haze, he could only hear the bitter whispers of his processor, telling him to finally finish it, to set him free from his cursed feelings once and for all.

It wasn't until a rough slap to the face that he suddenly became aware of his actions once more. The blessed fog of insanity rose and in its wake came torrents of nauseating agony and pain. Through the searing torment, he could barely make out the deep crimson optics of his leaders, and out of conditioned habit, he began to beg.

"Pl-se… Ha-ve….Me-mer…. cy."

For once, his powerful leader obliged his wishes and he suddenly fell away into darkness.

* * *

When he came too once more, he had to shudder his optics as the piercing, unforgiving lights glared down on his overwhelmed optical sensors. After a moment, he sensed a shadow fall across his form causing him, in reflex, to un-shudder his optics. He gazed dazedly up at Megatron and uncontrollable sense of dread gripped his spark. However, instead of the trademark frown of disproval that his leader normally directed his way on a cycle basis; his face was a mask of controlled aloofness. Distant optics study him for a moment before a flash of confused weariness flashed across his features before it was wiped clean by the apathetic mask.

"I had Hook offline your pain receptors."

The deep neutral tone was a bit surprising but not unwelcomed from the defeated seeker. Starscream nodded in acknowledgement and opened his mouth to give his thanks but Megatron interrupted him in the process.

"I should have had him leave the active for utter disobedience. You left this base unannounced and that highly displeases me. Especially when it concerns my double-crossing, treacherous second in command." Megatron stated his tone flat and uninterested. Starscream's frame rattled in alarming fear which did not go unnoticed by the looming supreme commander.

"But I see you have suffered enough. By your own servos no less."

Starscream flinched as if struck. He had not known what had come over him. All he knew, all he felt was a fierce determination to rid himself of the plaguing emotions that nearly swallowed him whole.

"I thank you for your consideration, Lord Megatron." Starscream whispered through his sensitive, but recently repaired, vocalizer. Megatron 'hmm-ed' softly in deep musing before tracing a clawed servo over the recent patch work of his second's cockpit. Starscream flinched, the sensation not un-lost to him as he would have thought.

"Starscream," Megatron uttered, "my dear protégé, what tipped your scales and took you into a blind world of insanity and sheer desperation?"

It was a question in which there were no true answers. He wasn't certain what had tipped his scales so unfavorably. He couldn't determine if it was a long time in coming. Or while he lost himself so violently. He only know that the unexpected attack was the cataclysm that brought about his senselessness, his rashness to somehow escape his own derma plating, his own worries and fears… he had become suicidal in his search for an ultimate freedom from himself and his miserable existence. The answer, after thinking it over, was simple, so he blurted it out headless of any repercussions it might bring him.

"You."

Megatron didn't seem as fazed as he thought he would be. His commander didn't flinch at the answer, nor did he seem to care that he had been blamed for Starscream's own personal hell. In fact, it looked as if Megatron had already knew this was coming, knew that he played a major, if not the lead, role into Starscream's fall to suicidal desperation.

Megatron, whose face was still as mask of collected aloofness, merely nodded and 'explain' fell forth from his lips. It was the only command Starscream found himself willing to obey.

"It's the way you look at me with that utter loathing look. I can see it in your optics how much you despise me, how much I seem to annoy you. It's in the way you speak to me with such a mocking tone. You don't take care to notice that words are far harsher then they appear, that they wound deeper than you could ever possibly fathom. It's how you completely undermine me, defeat me, go out of your way to break me down and keep me there. It doesn't matter to you that I'm completely humiliated in the process. That, after every time you beat me, assault me, attack me mentally, psychologically, the respect I deserve diminishes inside my subordinates. You can't stand me, my presence.

"You promoted me because you said I was good for the cause. But you lied. I mean nothing to you. Nothing to this cause. I'm expendable. Despite my best efforts, despite my only wanting the best for this faction, you continue to only see through me. You only take the time to notice my flaws. You never hear me, what I have to say. You said I was smart, brilliant even, and you won't even give me the chance to prove it to you. You, without hindrance, tear apart the very thing you signed me on for. You know I can boast this faction beyond the limits you have placed, beyond the shackles you won't release and that is the very reason you wanted me on your side. But you won't even let me flourish where I deserve to. You strike me down, time and time again. Beat me down and leave me there. Out of all of the Decepticons, you go out of your way just to destroy me, to desolate any confidence and strength I have… You turn it all against me. Turn all my strong points into my disgusting weakness.

"I don't mean to displease you, nor do I intend to overshadow you… My only truthful intention was to better this faction and in doing so… I…" Starscream paused, unsure if he should finish his thoughts. A look from his leader confirmed that he should despite the rising apprehension for the unknown.

"I only ever wanted to gain your respect." And he fell silent once more.

Megatron's mask of cold distant never wavered and in his silent musing, Starscream found himself unnerved. He had always been able to tell what his master was thinking, what exactly was plaguing the tyrant's processor but now, now he had no indication, no hint as to what was going through the commander's mind.

The long, tense silence was broken when the silver mech finally spoke, "I do respect you Starscream, and make no mistake in that."

Taken back by the statement, Starscream didn't know whether to scream in rage at the massive mech or to let it go and take the compliment as it was. He was torn between knowing that, while Megatron did he respects him, he only sought ways into destroying his second and never once portraying that sense of respect.

Without control, Starscream hissed out, "Then why not portray that then try to destroy all that I am?"

"It is not in my nature to show anything. I am programmed for battle and battle alone."

And in a twisted, logical stand point, it made sense to Starscream in a way he never thought he would.

"If I asked you to try, would you? For my sake? For my sanity's sake?"

It was a long, drawn out silence in which Megatron seemed to be contemplating the different variables of such a notion before the slightest nod of his helm indicated that he would, indeed, try to show his respect for the seeker's sake.

"No more abuse?" Starscream insisted, his damaged processor unable to find much comfort in the admittance of Megatron's willingness to try.

"None that you do not, truthfully and rightfully, deserve." Megatron uttered kilks later.

"You will listen; truly listen to what I have to say?"

Megatron once more nodded and stated, once again, "I will try."

"And you'll stop mocking me in front of the crew?" Starscream didn't truthfully mind the question he had asked. He could handle the mocking distain from his lord, as long as he knew his lord still respected him. In truth, the mocking would only fuel his determination to keep Megatron's respect and thusly, push him harder in the end.

Megatron, whom seemed to have understood the underlining message, smirked. "Do not push it Starscream."

With that, Megatron left the med bay. Starscream, with a truly light and at peace processor for the first time in many vorns, fell into recharge, awaiting the changes to come.

_~*~ And your voice was all I heard that I get what I deserve ~*~_

_

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**SingMyLullabySweet666:** I really hope you enjoyed it Cai-ann as well as everyone else. Please R&R to let me know what you think. Until next time!


	18. Shockwave's ABCs Part 1

**SingMyLullabySweet666:** I've finally been able to submit this document. :) Anyway, due to the sheer size of the overall piece (which is, in total, nearly 10,000 words long), I've decide to break it down into two parts. The first part will consist of the first half of the alphabet (A-M) and the second part will be the second half of the alphabet (N-Z). I must warn you that parts N-Z is the longer half. On than that, I do hope you enjoy.

**Chapter Warning(s):** Strong AU, Angst, Dark Themes, and a small dose of Sticky!

**Chapter Rating:** M

**_A/N: All notes of clarification are located at the end!! (i.e. when you see [1], which indicates a note, the information will be listed at the end). Furthermore, all words that I have used ARE in fact actual words. _**

* * *

**Abject **_(Utterly miserable)_

In his solemn darkness he laid, listless frame trembling. Audios rang aloud of beautiful lies and broken laughter. Like picture frames, vivid memories of wishful dreams played out before him. Solace came in the shadows of nothing; sanctuary came up empty. Behind locked doors he could imagine, breathless kisses of passion and life worth having. Alas, though, he knew nothing more than his darkest hour of abandon, caged in suffocation and stripped of worth.

**Bletcherous **_(aesthetically unappealing)_

Frame trembling with misery, servos clenched in shame. All around him illuminated beauty and he alone, a wretched stain. Others winked and flirted at the many gathered, but he held no part of this game. Voices haunting as he slipped from the room, whispers of beauty he would never hear.

**Captious**_ (fault finding)_

Some screamed to him in fury, others a gentle whisper of shame. Some reached to him, others shied away. Many hid behind ornate words and gentle lies, few ever gave themselves away. Try as they might, he always found them. Scornful etches of truth would tremble in fear, as he brought them forth to light and left them there. Nothing was spared in the massacre, not even him.

**Dysphoria** _(general depression)_

As I take in their smiling faces, I begin to wonder 'how do I get there?'

**Encraty** _(self control)_

His frame trembled in silent fury as his optic of golden hue brightened in a rare display of livid rage. Shockwave narrowly swallowed down the snarl of pure vehemence as he forced himself to stand by as his leader, _his_ leader, toured the hall with that vile temptation hanging onto his arm, sleek airline hips dancing promiscuously as plumb lips giggled in flirtation. It was disgusting to endure and ever more difficult to allow it to happen. With denta clenched, Shockwave reined in all the self control he could manage to prevent himself from walking over to his leader and that…. That, that FRAGGING WHORE and tear the two apart before viciously pulling apart that little harlot, starting with those precious wings. Though the thought was ever so tempting, he held himself back…. Oh! But the moment his leader is gone….

**Flinty** _(stern)_

A mind all logic is like a knife all blade [1]. It is cold and unyielding, stern and without a fathom of remorse, of sympathy. I was their reason, their un-sounding logic; therefore, I became their knife, that wretched agonizing pain that would govern them, dictate to them. I shaped all who could not will themselves, molded those who thought to greatly, morphed those who knew nothing. In all sense of reason, I had to be their tyrant, their master (though I was never to be confused with our lord), stern in their making, unyielding to their faults. They all listened, and those unwilling where thrown away, useless to our lord's vision. I was the voice of reason, of logic, and I shall here forth remain so.

**Goatish** _(lustful)_

He shouldn't be doing this. It was foolish, dangerous. More severely, it was entirely illogical. Despite the forewarning whispers of his logic circuits, he still found himself firmly pressed against the wanning steel wall, knees buckled underneath him, optic dulled in consuming lust and euphoria. His large gunner frame trembled fiercely as his servo trailed light sensual touches down his duel-plated armor towards his pelvic region. His vocalizer released a series of hiccupping gasps as the blunt end of his fingertips kissed the sensitive seams of his interface panel. _This is ridiculous._ His shuddering frame rocked heavily, wantonly, against his servo as he teasingly pressed it to his interface panel, servo barely leaving behind anymore than an alluring tingling sensation, causing his vocalizer to let loose a suppressed groan of pleasure. _I should have more control than this! I…._

Shockwave hissed in rapture as he released the catch on his interface panel, cool air of the Nemesis shocking his overheated frame, forcing a surge of ecstatic bliss to overcome his taxed systems. _If my Lord sees me… ah!_ As if on its own accord, the large servo trailed teasingly around his spike housing, pausing only a moment to dip in and skim the tip of the spike before trailing lower. _Wha… oh!... What has become of me?_ The guardian's frame bucked in ecstasy as he slowly, unconsciously, rubbed thick, blunt fingertips over the length of his valve, barely chocking back the groan that resulted. His servo rubbed the rim of the valve, softly pulling the flexible edges, the tip of one finger dipping into the leaking valve to tease the outer most sensors before treacherously drawing away.

Behind the steel ridden door that lay just to his left, Shockwave could hear the muffled mews of bliss that had started this illogical course of action from him. He sat, frame ridge and trembling, valve flexing in anticipation, servo massaging the folds of his leaking orifice, waiting. Waiting for the tall-tale sign that his master, his lord, penetrated that filthy whore's body he had taken to his berth. The waiting was agonizing, his valve convulsed in hot aggravation from the butterfly teasing it was receiving. It, instead, wished to be filled, to be slammed into over and over again until it hurt, until it ached with sedation and fatigue.

Shockwave, long since gone in his fantasy haze, trembled with unadulterated lust. A small, wishful moan escaped unchecked from his vocalizer as his processor no longer saw his own fingers dipping into his thoroughly soaked valve, but instead, and more pleasingly so, imagined that it was his lord who graced him with such pleasure; his hot, thick spike rubbing his dripping entrance wantonly, before, without mercy, slamming full-hilt into his willful body. Shockwave panted, frame taunt from his lust, his uncontrollable need to submit so fully to his master, to willfully let his body be abused so intimately, to reaffirm unyielding loyalty.

_AH!_ Shockwave sunk three of his thick fingers into his weeping valve as a muffled scream carried through the corridor. Without mercy, his body rocked heavily down his own servo that had so brutally penetrated his own body, frame rattling as it trembled harder from the pleasure. _Oh…. _The pace was brutal and harsh, fingers nearly stabbing into his wet valve as the sounds from his Lord's chamber carried through his audios, urging him to move his servos faster and grind his body down harder, knowing, deep in his lust ridden processor, that nothing with his master was ever gentle. _My Lord! Yes…… ah…. _A mew of blissful agony escaped his vocalizer as he rode his fingers, clenching his valve as his lifted himself up and relaxing as he dropped back down. Sensors sang voluptuously as he curled his fingers, allowing the blunt ends to scrape harshly, seductively, down his valve's inner walls. _Primus! Me-…._

Shockwave groaned lowly as he spread himself wider, large frame leaning forward to brace on his gunner arm. The new position allowed for his thick fingers to reach deeper into his body, tips barely skimming his most recessed and sensitive node. But it wasn't enough and Shockwave nearly growled in frustration. Without thinking, a sub-compartment opened and an electro-whip clunked to the floor. Quickly withdrawing his fingers from his valve, he grasped the semi-thick handle of the electro-whip and trailed the butt end tantalizingly over his dripping port. Rocking his large frame across the electro-whip as it was drawn back and forth across his entrance, Shockwave moaned softly before stilling himself and plunging the end of the whip deep inside himself. _Primus!_

With renewed vigor, Shockwave forced the semi-thick whip into his weeping valve over and over again. _My Lord…. Ah…. So… oh, yes! _Tilting the handle of the electro-whip, Shockwave allowed the blunt end to scrape along the bottom of his valve walls, causing sensors to tingle in painful stimulation. _I'm so close. _Without abandon, the thick servo mercilessly slammed the handle of the whip into his wet valve in an increasingly fast pace, his frame tensing with an impending overload. _I'm…. Primus! Yes, yes, yes…._

A piercing scream echoed down the corridor followed a more subtle groan. It was all Shockwave need to push himself over into the tantalizing abyss of euphoria and ecstasy. The guardian's frame went ridge as he slammed the handle of the whip into his dripping, hot valve once more as it convulsed and clenched in overload. _Ah…. MEGATRON!_ As the abused port released a torrent of lubricant in release, Shockwave's tightly clenched servo pushed the whip into him in shallow thrusts, drawing the experience out.

Slowly, the large gunner frame relaxed as the overload passed, frame slumping lazily to rest on his gun arm. A few kilks went by before he shakily withdrew the handle of the electro-whip from his now sedated valve, whimpering as overtaxed sensors were brushed. Finally, as the handle was removed with a slick, wet 'pop' Shockwave pushed himself into a slumped sitting position, exhausted chassis resting heavily against the wanning steel wall. Swallowing a sign of contempt, Shockwave proceeded to clean himself, the whip, as well as the floor beneath him before closing his interface panel. As the guardian stood, he took a moment to recompose himself before carrying on towards Megatron's chambers, his original destination before he was swept away in his lustful state, to deliver the reports his master had commanded of him.

**Habromania** _(insanity featuring cheerful delusions)_ [2]

_Patient exhibits bouts of…._ Shockwave's vocalizer whined softly as his logic center pinged in agony as it conflicted over the information he had bore witness too was tumbled over and over again in an attempt to process, and failing miserably, just what was going on. His large gunner frame swayed back and forth, his servo wrapped about his torso in a vain attempt to comfort himself. In the haze of his blinding agony, he nearly missed the ghosting sensation of another's touch. His dull and unfocused yellow optic looked upwards to the source, meeting the fierce and captivating optics of his leader…. _Highly delusional...._

Shockwave let loose a groan as his leader's servo gently stroke his antenna in a soothing, and most welcomed, manner. He was not expecting such comfort from his hardened and vastly cruel leader but was none-the-less pleased as the soothing strokes continued, the calming sensation nearly drowning out his raging logic center.

"They said…" Shockwave hissed as a sharp pang of white hot agony laced through his processor, causing his large frame to spasm for a moment before settling back into his gentle swaying, "Said you… not real….. Delusional." His logic center ached as is tried to force out words in a coherent sentence.

His leader's raging optics narrowed in displeasure, his stroking servo stopping for but a moment, causing Shockwave to whine and lean further into the contact_…. Subjected to_…

"They delusion themselves if they think I do not exist." His leader hissed in a building rage.

"Fragment made imagination real not up…" Shockwave mutter as his logic center offlined under the strain of its confliction.

"I thought you would know better than to listen to their lies, my dearest Shockwave." Megatron rumbled as he continued the pet the former officer. "If I am not real, then how can you see me? How can you feel me, speak to me?"

…_.Severe isolation…._

"Touch touch very hard lovely cold touch hard firmness touch" was the only answered Megatron received as a low hum exhibited from within Shockwave's chassis as his logic center slowly rebooted, sending pings of sporadic agony lacing through he neural wires. _Prone to psychoses…._ "Illogical… must be… can't otherwise…"

Megatron purred in response, kneeling before his subordinate. "I knew my most loyal and trusted soldier would not fall for those filthy Autobot tricks. Now rest, you need strength if you are to escape from this prison."

Shockwave's large frame slumped against that of his leader in sever exhaustion, overtaxed systems beginning to power down as the former guardian slowly slipped into a troubled, but much needed, recharge. The last thing that met his optic before he fell away into his oblivion was the empty darkness that swallowed him whole.

…_._ _Diagnostic: Schizophrenia…._

**Ianthine** _(violet-colored)_

It was severely aggravating as the fools that the Nemesis harbored subjected themselves to their own personal entertainment at his own expense. He could ignore stabs at his logical processing, his lack of two servos, and he could even handle being ridiculed for his borderline obsessive loyalty for his leader. However, there was one thing that grated on his processor….

He was not, for the love of Primus, lavender!

He did not consider himself a vain mech by any means but did still approve of an appearance of strictly professional mannerisms. Yet, no matter how hard he tried to ignore the remarks of his paint work, he could not help himself to forcefully correcting his subordinates. Was it too terribly hard for these inferior fools to see that he was violet or more specifically, electric violet (and in some cases, depending on lighting, vivid violet)? Slag, at this point, he would ever accept purple, but lavender? Lavender!

Shockwave resisted the tempting urge to grumble in displeasure to himself as another remark involving his color scheme wafted into his audio systems. _Imbeciles_.

**Jussive** _(expressing a command)_

"Considering I exceed you in rank, I order that you cease calling my paint job lavender."[3]

**Keck** _(to feel disgust or strong dislike)_

"Don't play coy with me…. I know how much you want it." Shockwave nearly growled in displeasure as the other 'Con pressed invasively into his personal space, having taken it upon himself to try and 'loosen up' the massive gunner.

"You are deluding yourself." The other form frowned momentarily before that sleek and freshly polished frame pressed even closer to the large mech.

"Now, now, Shockwave. That's not very nice." Came his reply, answer thick with over-energized static and something else that Shockwave refused to name, simply because he wished not to recognized what it was… especially from the mech next to him.

A shutter managed to creep up the violet mech's back-struts as a sly servo rubbed suggestively across his broad chest panels, the smaller, sleeker body pressing further into his side. Shockwave barely restrained himself enough to not reach for that molesting servo and just tear it from the mech's body. A very tempting thought… Too tempting.

"Remove your servo from my plating, seeker. I am in no mood for your games."

The servo stilled for but a moment before a wicked and intoxicated grin spread over the mech's faceplate next to him before Shockwave felt that unwanted servo trace the seam on his chest plates. It was enough motive for Shockwave as he stood abruptly, forcing the seeker next to him to topple over in surprise. The violet mech marched out of the Command Center, the mocking and overzealous laughter of the invasive mech ringing in his audio systems. Shockwave growled.

One of these days, he was going to kill that damned, treacherous seeker…. If his Lord didn't get to him first.

**Loveless **_(receiving no love)_

He wasn't a mech of many things; simplicity and logic were all he needed but… That was all before he met him, before he was ever graced to stumble upon such a mech as him. From the moment he met him, he knew there was something more he desired, something he needed from this mech, craved from him something he could not dare to begin with words. It begun as simple curiosity, simple gratification. As time wore on, that innocent simplicity he was acquainted with became something so much more, something fiercer; something dangerous. It became a sort of obsession, an all consuming want to have his Lord near him, around him, _with_ him.

So it was no surprise that he had done everything within his capabilities to please Megatron, to ensure that his Lord wanted for nothing that he, himself, could not provide. He gave his master his perfection and in turn, Megatron promoted him, gave him praise after praise. He became the former gladiator's closet ally, his most trusted soldier. He became his master's guardian, a fleeting honor he could no more be thrilled of. For a moment, he was everything his master needed. He provided his master with stability and sound reason, even in times where it seemed as if it would not be enough. For a moment, his fantasy of meaning more to Megatron was within reach was closer than he could have ever imagined. For a moment, he believed in his dream, but only for a moment.

His fantasy, his only wish, his only dream, shattered when that treacherous seeker began to captivate Megatron; drew his lord in like a moth to a flame. In the face of his greatest threat, Shockwave did everything to keep his master close to him. He, timelessly, warned the large gladiator that the seeker was dangerous grounds, grounds that should not be trampled on. He warned of deceit within the cocky recruit. Yet, despite everything, despite all his well meanings, his master ignored him and to the seeker he caved. Shockwave, a mech of unsoundly logic and simplicity, had felt the smallest quiver of… something…. In his spark as he watched, from the sidelines, as Megatron catered to the over pompous flyer.

The feeling began to grow, began to consume him as, time after time, Megatron favored the flyer to fill his position, pushing him off into the background, forgotten. He never knew what kept him from recharge back then, never knew what prevented him functioning at his fullest capacity some orns. He knew what it was now. And he was suffocating in it; forced to drown by a fresh-off-the-line seeker.

He knew it was to happen, knew it was only a matter of time, and yet, it was a moment that he wished he could prevent from ever happening, and if he could not, he had only wished he would have been chosen for such an honor. Yet he wasn't, again. Once more that aggravating seeker was chosen over him, Megatron's most trusted and most loyal ally. Apparently, he wasn't enough. So, here he stood, his back pressed firmly to his chamber door, vents heaving and his optic dimmed as his spark clenched in an overbearing agony, one he had never felt before, one he wasn't used to.

He didn't understand, couldn't comprehend the logic behind Megatron's decision. What did that wretched seeker have that he had not portrayed already? Shockwave's vents hitched as his pedes refused to support his slumping weight anymore. He slid down the locked door to his chambers, pedes buckling underneath his frame as the maddening despair gripped him harder. Thick claws clutched tightly to his gunner servo, the (although thick) metal beginning to succumb to the pressure, miniscule rivulets of energon trailing down the servo as the tips of his claws pierced the metal. Though he was quickly drowning in the suffocating misery, Shockwave managed to swallow back the keening whine that threatened to escape.

_Megatron…. My lord. I don't understand. Why am I not enough?_

**Martinet **_(one who adheres to the rules)_ [4]

"It's not wise to violate rules until you know how to observe them."* Shockwave commented as he took in two of the Command Trine before him. Starscream only smirked in irritable satisfaction as Skywarp grinned manically.

"If you obey all the rules you miss all the fun."* Skywarp answered, his battered purple frame twitched slightly as severed relays sparked spontaneously.

"I concur", Starscream paused as Hook jerked on one of the flyer's damaged wing struts, causing a hiss of pain to fill the air, crimson eyes darkening for a moment before they cast a glare to the indifferent medic. "You are remembered for the rules you break."*

"Rules are for the obedience of fools and the guidance of wise men."*

Starscream glanced over his wing mate for a moment before the two of them broke into a fit of laughter.

"So which one are you?" Skywarp laughed.

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**SingMyLullabySweet666:** I do hope you have enjoyed Part 1. Below are the notes and creditation for this chapter.

**[1]** Quote by Rabindranath Tagore

**[2]** Habromania is (basically) any psychological disorder that features insanity accompanied with cheerful delusions, such as Schizophrenia.

**[3]** Yep! Shockwave is still upset at his paintjob being called lavender. Lol Sorry, I couldn't find a 'J' word that I liked.

**[4]** Quotes by (in order of appearance): T.S. Elliot, Katherine Hepburn, Douglas MacArthur, and Douglas Bader.


	19. Shockwave's ABCs Part 2

**SingMyLullabySweet666:** This is Part 2. Once more, be aware that this part is, by far, longer than Part 1.

**Chapter Warning(s):** Strong AU, Angst, Dark Themes, Some Sticky!, and slight hints of Mpreg.

**Chapter Rating:** M

**_A/N: All notes are at the end of the chapter (i.e. when you see [a #])_**

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**Nous** _(pure intellect or reason)_ [5]

"All other things partake in a portion of everything, while nous is infinite and self-ruled, and is mixed with nothing, but is alone, itself by itself."* Shockwave paused in mid-lecture, golden optic glancing to his student, watching listlessly as the young mech wrote diligently on his stylus.

"For if it were not by itself, but were mixed with anything else, it would partake in all things if it were mixed with any; for in everything there is a portion of everything, as has been said… in what goes before, and the things mixed with it would hinder it, so that it would have power over nothing in the same way that it has now being alone by itself. For it is the thinnest of all things and the purest, and it has all knowledge about everything and the greatest strength; and nous has power over all things, both greater and smaller, that have soul."*

"I disagree." The voice was soft, timid in its deliverance but Shockwave heard it none-the-less.

"To what do you disagree with?"

Soft optics rose to meet Shockwave's as the small, delicate hands ceased in their tedious task. A moment of silence stifled the air before the smaller mech broke the silence; his voice steady and firm, optics calm and collected.

"I disagree. I do not believe that nous has the ability to be so controlling, so dominate in anything that may have a soul. Nothing could possibly have such power, at least, not enough to seemingly govern one's own soul. Perhaps their mind, their body even, but the soul is something of its own, an entity that exists within the body, but is, in its own right, separate from both mind and body. I believe that the soul contains within it, its own mind, something that allows it to feel things beyond basic logic, like love and grief. I think that it is the soul that has power over all things because with the soul, mechs are able to experience the things that they do, and these experiences draw upon the emotions of the mech in question. Emotions can lead to highly illogical and irrational displays of behavior: murder, suicide, things of this matter. Logic may be emperor of the mind, but never a soul; if anything, the soul is supreme even to logic."

"That, youngling, is idealism."

**Objectivism **_(doctrine that all reality is objective)_ [6]

"The attack on [mech's] consciousness and particularly on his conceptual faculty has rested on the unchallenged premise that any knowledge acquired by a _process_ of consciousness is necessarily subjective and cannot correspond to the facts of reality, since it is _"processed_ knowledge... [But] All knowledge _is_ processed knowledge — whether on the sensory, perceptual or conceptual level. An "unprocessed" knowledge would be a knowledge acquired without means of cognition."*

He remembered each word spoken as if he were there, the heavily accented voice of his mentor drifting wanly to his audio receptors as he sat so perfectly still, the idealistic vision of a proper student bent on learning. It had been his very first lecture on the existence of reality, what was perceived by it, what mechs saw it for; what it was. He had asked his mentor to stay late, had asked him, so eagerly, to explain more of the idea. He absorbed every structured sentence, every fabricated word that had left the elder mech's lips, sorted through each thought and belief and filed them away for future indulgencies, more specific studies.

Before he comprehended it, that simplistic notion of logic, of reality, became his own reality, his existence. In all sense, the notion became him: all knowledge is processed knowledge, therefore, everything he could comprehend, could tear apart and scrutinize, could think up can conduct… it all became knowledge of what was possible, what was, of reality. He became invincible in his capacity of knowledge, a master of sound logic, a creator of a reality unlike so many others.

It is a simplistically, logical reality, but it is his reality, his processed knowledge, and his alone. That, in and of itself, was why he gave himself wholly to that one notion. The only reason; the logical reason.

**Parous** _(bearing or having borne offspring)_

Shockwave sat poised, back-strut stiff with apprehensive uncertainty as he gazed upon the minuscule life nestled carefully in his massive arms, optic barely alive with vibrancy. Hesitantly, the guardian's servo lifted, pausing momentarily before he gently ran the tip of his finger down the sparkling's features, watching in a curious wonderment as the small being mewled and nestled further into his gunner arm, tiny vents huffing as it settled comfortably once more. A sparkling, his sparkling and more importantly, it was, is, _their_ sparkling.

When he had learned of their small accident, it had been the first time he had ever felt true, suffocating fear. He had collapsed against the terminal in their berthing cambers, spark fluctuating hastily, and entire frame shaking in his processor-numbing panic. It took him nearly four cycles to regain a feign collectiveness, nearly relapsing into another fit when his processor reminded he had to tell him mate. That alone had taken him nearly seven deca-cycles, but his fears were, for the moment, vanquished when his mate, albeit a bit wearily, reassured him that they were going to keep this sparkling, _their_ sparkling.

Shockwave looked down to the small life, and, with swelling bitterness and resentment, nearly wished that Megatron had ordered him to terminate the thing. The guardian's optic narrowed as his unrestricted anger reign over him, servo twitching with the urge to lash out at something, at someone, anyone. Swallowing back the howl of suppressed grief, Shockwave vented deeply, forcefully willing his large frame to relax, though his servo remained clenched in his lap.

There wasn't much time left, only a few breems remained of the cycle given to him to, as they had said, 'say good-bye to his sparkling'. He knew this was to happen, had known since the Decepticons fell and the commanding officers were arrested for "war crimes". They had been tried, unfairly so, and sentenced. Death awaited him, all of them, when he was deemed fit enough. Illogical, but that was the Autobot way. The council had pushed back his execution, solely because of this sparkling…. It had saved him, had saved Megatron, for only a little while, until he had birthed it, and now… Now time ticked away, and so did his remaining life.

A butterfly touch to his shoulder brought him out of his abject horror trance, dulled optic lifting to gaze into empathetic oceans. Shockwave gazed at the prized medic for a moment, before looking back down and the new life, life he had given. For a brief moment, he the faintest feeling he was going to breakdown, collapse into a terrible fit of misery, not for his impending fate, nor that of his mate's, but for his sparkling, for not having the chance to see it grow, to hold it, caress it, love it.

The briefest touch over his bond from Megatron quelled his raging anguish. The medic held his arms out solemnly, as if he were pained to steal his sparkling, whisk it away to some filthy Autobot home.

"Shockwave, your time is up."

The guardian nodded, yet made no move to hand over the small being nestled safely in his arms. The medic sighed, whether in irritation or some sympathetic understanding, he didn't know. He knew that if he continued to refuse to give up his sparkling, the medic would be forced to call in someone that would forcefully remove it from his arms. He couldn't bring himself to care. He didn't want to give it up, not yet. This feeling of elation, of pride and unquestionable love was still too fresh.

"Shockwave…" the medic's tone tainted with the barest hint of impatience. The violet mech hesitated for a kilk longer before, reluctantly, holding out the new life for the other mech to take.

"He will be well taken care of." The medic reassured before the red and white mech turned and the left the med-bay, the massive door clicking as it closed, locking.

Shockwave sat stiffly, servo clenched tightly in his lap, optic darkened with raging emotions, waiting. A cycle later, a guard had entered and escorted him back to his cell, back to Megatron. When they were securely tucked away in their suffocating prison, Megatron took him in his arms and held him for the remainder of the orn, nothing exchanged but the brief conversation over their bond.

_'The sparkling…'_

_'… Was perfect.'_

**Quietus **_(silencing)_

The roar of the crowd was deafening in the vast space of the arena once used for gladiatorial fighting. The ring in which Megatron had begun his movement, begun his reign of terror, would be the resting grounds for his demise. Had Starscream still functioned, he would have laughed at the ironic symbolism of this moment.

They lead us out in chains and tether us to our mechanism of defeat. The assembled crowd had sang loudly in rupture as we were locked in placed, servos tethered outwards, secured in place by thick straps, pedes bolted to the floor. The deafening roar became unbearable when they began to plug the various jacks into crucial ports along our chassis'.

Briefly, I glanced over at Megatron, watching as he gazed past the mechs securing us to our deaths to the raised balcony where the Prime sat, where his _brother_ sat. I followed his line of vision, watched as the flamed mech refused to meet our optics, refused to even look upon the spectacle before him. His greatest enemy, his own brother, executed and the soft-sparked fool could not find it in him to take part in the crowd's joy, their sickened entertainment.

The Prime had been the only mech to oppose the council's rule of public execution. It wasn't what he had wanted, wasn't in his nature for such a thing. It was what Cybertron wanted, demanded. Appease the masses. Appease the wronged population. So they council did. Despite the ruling, Prime had tried on numerous occasions to argue that the death of the officers of the once Decepticon force would not solve anything, that it would only anger the remaining opposing faction further. The council rebuked that it would put our troops in their place, would detour them from another upraising. They were removing the threat. Or so the council thought.

The mechs backed away as they finished the preparation, one looking to the balcony and raising a hand, some form of a signal, an open invitation that they could proceed. The head of the council stood, lifting a hand for silence. He spoke, voice loud and booming, words dripping with malicious intent as he gazed upon us. The crowd roared once more, spectators cheering with impatient justice. Prime's form slouched further, optics dimming in bitter acceptance of the future. He had no voice here, the council was supreme; he was just a figure-head.

The massive council mech accepted a device from one of his subordinates, lifting it above him as if it were a Primus blessed idol. Silence reigned for a moment as he looked down at Megatron and I, optics flashing with smug victory, then he settled directly on me. I was to die first. It was only logical. It would cause Megatron much pain and grief to see his mate murdered before his optics. His own execution would be a blessing. If they wanted him to suffer, they would end me and allow him to live. The pain of a broken bond, of missing half of you, would be justice enough. That would punishment. This, here and now, was nothing.

Then came the raw agony. It pushed through my wires and circuits, corroding my processor in its vehement journey, bypassing encrypted coding and firewalls before encompassing my spark greedily; a poisonous parasite bent on gluttony. In haste, I had tried to close the bond, tried to prevent this suffocating agony from befalling Megatron for as long as I could; he shouldn't have to suffer twice. He refused to allow it close off; fought back with everything he had and pushed the connection wide open. Through a cloudy haze, I looked over to him, watched as his face twisted with pure affliction, his crimson optics burning brightly, flaring in time with the pulsating agony tearing over the bond, breaking it, shredding everything that it was.

The agony strengthened, became too much and I vaguely heard a deafening scream, one that I knew belonged to me, but at the time, had sounded disembodied, further away. Vaguely, I was aware of my engine sputtering, smoking from over-taxation, and the seams in my armor crackling with excessive energy, the bright blue loops embracing my frame as the voltage increased. My frame went taunt, servo struts tearing, metal buckling as I began to curl off my post, every part of myself ridged with pain.

He began to fade as my optics shorted out, his helm faced away from me, flaring optics boring into the form of the defeated Prime. It was not my name he growled out as the bond snapped under the tension, but that of his brother's, of the Prime. The slouched form tensed and looked up, dulled optics gazing into that of Megatron's, the crystal blue depths drowning with suppressed sorrow and a fleeting glare of pain.

For a moment, I felt nothing and then the blackness claimed me. I fell away to silence.

**Recadency** _(relapsing)_

Shockwave's vents hissed in irritable frustration as he navigated the desolate halls, disguised frame moving diligently and silently in fear of bringing unwanted attention to himself. False blue optics narrowed as his inner reprimand continued within his torn processor. Part of him demanded he turn another path, citing that this could result in a breach of his infiltration that his Lord would be severely disappointed were he to fail in his mission simply because he could not control this unacceptable urge. The other half, the one he found himself listening to, told him this is what he needed, what he craved; that this unspeakable treason he was committing was far too delicious, far too intoxicating to simply let slip away.

Perhaps that had been the reason that he had constantly found himself in this situation. Perhaps the sole reason he found himself outside the commander's doorway cycle after cycle was not for the need to take council in offered companionship, but to satisfy a much darker need, the need of stepping over the line, of doing something against his ingrained programming. Shockwave found that he rather much enjoyed walking the knife's edge between outright treason and experimentation. He enjoyed the thrill, the anticipation, apprehension of being found out, of being compromised. It was like a drug to him, intoxicating and highly addictive. He wanted this.

Shockwave glanced at the door he had come upon in his silent musings, false optics staring at the large steel frame, a moment of hesitation, of cursing inner voices, before he reached his disguised servo to press the door chime. Several kilks passed before a gentle command answered his call.

"Enter."

The door opened with his movement forward, large steel parting to reveal his hidden desire, his filthy secrete. A smile of tired elation greeted his disguised frame, exhausted optics alight with something he chose to feign ignorance of.

"I'm glad you came."

A smile from false lips was Shockwave's reply, frame trembling as the strong arms enveloped him.

He craved this.

**Salacious** (_indecently erotic)_ [7]

A soft, strangled mew of raw pleasure escaped his vocalizer as he felt the thick spike slowly, agonizingly, slip into his port, his frame wantonly pushing back into the delicious sensation in desperation to be filled far quicker. A gentle laugh met his audios at his futile efforts, the spike creeping inside of him, inch by delicious inch, causing him to whine in euphoric rapture as he felt his port walls stretch over the impressive girth.

"Hush." The voice was rough with lust, static playing heavily over the soft command. Shockwave's frame tingled pleasantly at the sound, a shiver of vibration climbing up his back-strut from the deep-bass.

"Please." His own voice wasn't much better, thick with craving. He hadn't really known what he was begging for. He had just felt to the need to express his wantonness, his consuming lust.

"Shhh. Just enjoy."

Shockwave nearly sobbed in bliss as the spike finally seated fully within his greedy port. His lover groaned in satisfaction as he felt the hot wetness that encased him in soft, tight walls pulsate with the need to be satisfied. The large, bulky frame behind him pressed into his own, one servo taking hold of his narrow waist, the other pressing firmly against his lower abdominal plating, holding his own trembling frame to the other's.

"Need it." He whined frustrated at the lack of movement, of that intoxicating friction he desired, craved at the moment.

"I know."

The spike seated deeply within him shifted deeper as its owner pressed him more firmly into him, causing a gasp in response from the pleasure shot mech. The thickness withdrew, the tip of the pulsating spike the only part left breaching the dripping port before the mech behind him, slowly, firmly, pressed him downward, allowing both gravity and his strength to ease the penetration. It continued in this manner, his frame being eased up until the spike barely remained within him, then the wonderful feeling of a slow and hard penetration as his form was eased back onto the impressive thickness.

A sob left him as the spike seated into him once more, but, instead of withdrawing, it remained deep within his aching port; his framed forced to move in slow circular motions on the hot, spike as the mech behind him gyrated his hips.

"Is that good?" the question accompanied by the overwhelming sensation of the slow circular motions, as well as the new feeling of the mech, though still seated firmly in the wet port, pushed deeper into Shockwave's frame, the head of the spike jabbing softly into the malleable port walls.

"So good…" he trembled in his wanton state, frame arching as rocked his hips over the other's hastily, desperate for further simulation, "More… please."

The other paused for a moment, before leaning back to brace a servo on the berth beneath them, the other wrapping more firmly around Shockwave's slim hips, all the while urging Shockwave to place his pedes on the mech's spread knees. A hiss escaped the smaller mech as the spike was forced deeper into the well-lubricated port, the soft walls slightly protesting the position as a soft burn tingled along the relay sensors.

Using his pedes as leverage, along with help from his lover's arm wrapped around him, Shockwave lifted his frame off the spike slowly, teasingly. He gyrated long the tip for a moment before allowing gravity to slam him back down. A sharp cry escaped his vocalizer, echoing inside the spacious chambers.

"Primus… Yes!" the smaller mech cried out as he slammed himself back down once more, taking a moment to relish the feeling of something stretching his port so fully, before lifting off of it, "Oh!"

"I love the sounds you make." His lover groaned as Shockwave mewled as he increased the pace, continuously raising and falling over the spike, the wet sounds of the penetration echoing deeply in their audios. Servos gripped the thermal sheets tightly, pulling and twisting as the smaller mech continue to ride his lover's spike, frame trembling with the building lust.

A groan of irritation suddenly filled the chamber as the mech's spike slipped out from Shockwave's port. Before Shockwave could, with sheer desperation, reseat himself, he was being moved, the mech behind himself sliding up the length of the berth to rest himself against the headrest. The new angle forced Shockwave to lean against the frame behind him, planting his pedes firmly on the berth for leverage. Two arms looped themselves around his legs, gently easing his stance wider, opening him up more and also supporting his weary frame.

Shockwave, with freed-up servos, reached down and grasped the other's spike, rubbing the thick head against the rim of his weeping port, before dropping back down, causing both mechs to moan at the suddenness of the penetration.

"Slag you're tight… and nice and wet." A moan of agreement left the former Decepticon, his frame bouncing shamelessly over the spike, desperately trying to satisfy the burning, aching need that throbbed within his port.

"Please… Please, please, please… Primus!" Shockwave sobbed, the distinct tingling of the building charge becoming too much.

"What do you want, sweetspark?"

"Pl… ah! –ease!" Shockwave chanted as the spike mercilessly teased his port, the relay sensors thrumming with building ecstasy.

The arms looped around his legs removed themselves, now-free servos gripping tightly to the narrow waist. With wanning strength, servos helped slam the smaller mech down unto the spike as wide hips lifted to complete the thrust. Shockwave's helm snapped back, optic brightening in sheer pleasure as the tip of the spike stabbed his most recessed, yet most sensitive, relay sensor.

"Wait… oh! Primus, yes! There! There… right there."

The pace quickened, thrusts beginning to shallow as overload crept closer and closer. The wet sounds of the spike pounding repeatedly into the dripping port was accompanied by the loud whine of cooling vents humming wildly as they tried to cool inner temperatures, as well as the sweet melody of Shockwave's mewled pleasure and the carnal growls from his lover.

"Mmm… You're close," the deep rumble left Shockwave on the brink, the voice an unspoken turn on to the clouded processor. Shockwave hissed as his tired frame was brutally pounded into, the need to relief becoming suffocating.

"Primus… Oh! Oh! Oh… I'm coming… I'm coming!"

"That's it," his lover whispered into his audio, his movements just as frantic as his too-far gone lover, spike japing into the quivering port in short, sharp thrusts. "Overload for me, Shockwave."

"Magnus…" Shockwave whined as his overload swept over him, frame arching away from his lover's, optic blackening out from the intense pleasure as his port convulsed, lubricant dripping hotly down the length to pool on the berth below.

Ultra Magnus emitted a feral growl, optics brightening, as his own overload swept through him, spike still japing into the rippling port as hot transfluid spurted from the tip to intermingle with the lubricant.

As the pleasurable sensation wore off, Shockwave sagged heavily into his lover's frame, vents shakily sucking in air to cool his inner core. Ultra Magnus hummed in sated satisfaction as he wrapped his large, bulky arms around Shockwave, pulling the exhausted frame closer to his own. He bent down to place a gentle, fleeting kiss to the former 'Con's helm before carefully lifting the over-taxed frame off his spike, enticing a whimper as over-sensitive sensors were stimulated within Shockwave's port, before Magnus retracted his spike back into its housing.

"S'good." Came the tired mumble as Magnus cleaned up his exhausted lover as well as the birth.

"It's always good with you, sweetspark." Magnus answered softly, placing another butterfly kiss to Shockwave's helm, the mech mumbling something incoherent before dropping offline into recharge. Throwing the cloth he used to clean up to ground near the berth, Magus laid down, taking the frame of his lover into his arms, before he too fell into a much need recharge.

**Torpid** _(numb/lethargic)_

This had become his life, this momentary living of plastic smiles and paper flowers. He knew this wasn't real, knew it was all false pleasantries, but he found that the strength to fight back had left him. He could no longer care. He had thought, for a moment, dared to hope that this was it, this was the end to his loathsome yearnings, his desperate need of desire. For longest while, he delusional himself into believing that he had found his ever-after, had allowed himself to slip away into the illogical notion that there was such a place.

He had been a fool.

Now he was felt feeling nothing, not the gripping pain engulfing his spark as he watched his mate stray to the arms of another, not the drowning misery that plagued his processors daily as he audios caught wind of whispered declarations of secrete love. He felt nothing anymore, could only feel nothing.

He had been a delusion fool.

**Utinam** _(earnest wish or desire)_

Shockwave strolled leisurely through Nemesis' halls, frame erect with poise. Other mechs passed him by, some trying vaguely to ignore his imposing presence while others gave miniscule indications of greetings to him, which, in turn, he chose to ignore. Silently, he continued on, pushing towards the command deck to speak with Lord Megatron on a matter of an experiment he wished to carry one, one in which he needed specimens for testing.

Upon entering the command deck, his optic met the sight of Lord Megatron pinning his disobedient Second in Command against one of the unused consoles using only the former gladiator's superior weight of his frame as leverage. The smaller seeker's facial expression was twisted in pained irritation, blue servos lifting to push against Megatron's bulkier frame in an effort to remove him.

"You will learn to behave, Starscream, even if I have to beat you into submission!"

Starscream huffed, his sleek frame twisting every which way, still attempting to move the angered Supreme Commander away from him.

"You say that every time, _oh mighty Megatron_. I have yet to see your methods work!" The smaller mech paused, before leaning closer to the grey mech, a smirk in place as he gratingly whispered, "Perhaps you're losing your touch."

The former gladiator growled in warning, his larger frame forcing the treacherous seeker back onto the console as he pressed further into the mech beneath him.

"Perhaps I'm not using the correct method on you." Megatron snarled, murderous eyes narrowing in contempt as his SIC continued to struggle, spewing curses and treats when he would not bulge.

A moment later, Starscream fell placid under the larger frame, face twisting into a cocky smirk of victory as he sensually leaned in closer to Megatron, his grating vocalizer purring out his next sentence.

"Perhaps your right, _mighty Megatron_. Perhaps I need a new punishment to keep me in line." With that, Starscream twisted a little more before lifting his helm and forcefully kissing Megatron. The said mech went ridge, his processor tripping over itself in order to sense of the situation.

Shockwave, too, went ridge with momentary shock and for a moment, he felt like his logical center would crash. Coming back to himself, he turned tail and left the command deck, logic centers throbbing as he still try to make sense of Starscream's new ploy to escape punishment. In a lapse of his usual self, Shockwave messaged his helm, desperately wishing that the image of his Supreme Commander and the Second in Command kissing from his processor. The sounds that he left behind as he briskly strolled away from the command center weren't helping his wish come true any faster.

**Vagitus** _(baby's cry or wail)_ [8]

Shockwave onlined abruptly, systems jerking out of recharge as his audios relayed the disturbance, causing his protective carrier programming to activate as the noise was processed and classified. Shifting restlessly, Shockwave rose, frame slumped uncharacteristically in exhaustion. He nearly collapsed in a heap of metal as his leg struts threatened to give way, systems, though forcefully online, were weary and still groggy with the remaining codes off recharge.

With carefully placed steps, Shockwave was able to reach the small, enclosed berth that contained the reason for his being online at such an unprompted hour. Lifting the minuscule being into his massive servos, Shockwave turned back to the berth, resting his deprived frame on the warm, malleable metal. Gently, Shockwave rocked the sparkling in his servos, vocalizer cooing out soft sounds in an attempt to settle the fussing sparkling.

After several kilks had gone by, and the sparkling refused to cease its wailing, Shockwave opened his com-link to his bondmate, urging to the other to their quarters as his patience with the small being wore thin from his lack of adequate recharge. Moments later, his mate appeared, his large frame erected with authority, despite the own mechs clear exhaustion.

"He will not cease his wailing," Shockwave murmured softly, servos still gently rocking the sparking in the vain attempt to calm him. "Will you go to Soundwave and retrieve another batch of formula energon? I used the last of it earlier this breem."

Shockwave watched as his mate hurried from the room, leaving him alone with their creation once more. With a tired sigh, the guardian placed his creation onto the berth, watching as he twisted and thrashed, tiny tanks urging his cries louder as they demanded satisfaction. Shockwave reached out, rubbing the tip of one of his claws done the small features carefully in a desperate attempt to sooth away the discomfort of empty tanks.

"Hush, Vavasour, your creator has left to retrieve your energon." He whispered, tone absent of his usual detached professionalism. He watched as his sparkling grabbed hold of his claw, bringing the appendage to its tiny mouth and began to suckle, tiny servo remained wrapped around the offending claw, refusing to allow him to pull away. Shockwave's sparked flared, optic softening to a dim hue as he continued to watch the small mech suckle in a desperate attempt to silence his gurgling tanks.

Shockwave pulled his claw away as Vavasour released it, face twisted in frustration as he was continually denied the substance he required. A piercing wail escaped the tiny vocalizer of his creation, the small sparkling's body thrashing once more. Shockwave ached for his sparkling, but could do nothing more but sit and wait for his mate to return.

_'Where are you? Vavasour is becoming highly impatient.'_

_'I'm returning to our quarters as we speak.'_

Shockwave pulled away from the bond, satisfied that Vavasour's created was on his way back. As they both waited, he set out to gently wipe away the ever going fluid from the sparkling's optics, though the golden lenses drowned in the fluid as more tears formed. He carried on in his silent mission for several kilks before the door opened to reveal Megatron with a large cube full of formula-grade energon.

He sat patiently as his mate went over to prepare a small, bottle (something Shockwave had made to make feeding their sparkling easier) before walking over and resting next to the guardian. Black servos handed over the bottle, exhausted crimson optics watching as Shockwave took the sparkling into his arms once more as he tipped the bottle towards the sparkling that greedily suckled away on the crafted nipple.

"Thank you." It was softly spoken but the mech next to him heard it none-the-less and hummed in acknowledgement. A strong arm wrapped itself around Shockwave's upper torso before pulling him firmly into the chassis behind him, Megatron settling his helm onto his shoulder as crimson optics watched their creation feed.

"You should head back to the command deck, there is still work to be done. I will be fine." Shockwave muttered, helming tilting to side, allowing his mate more room to rest him own helm.

"I'd rather be here than going over proposals for the slagging treaty. My processor aches enough from all the file-work." Megatron groaned as he allowed his frame to rest more comfortably against that of his mate's. Shockwave chuckled softly in response, settling himself into a more comfortable position as he, too, watched Vavasour suckle away at his energon.

A breem had gone by before the sparkling had fallen back into recharge. Megatron rested into the berth below his aching frame, servos pulling Shockwave down with him. Settling Vavasour between them, the two, eagerly, followed their creation's example and fell away into a much needed recharge.

**Wanze** _(to waste away)_

I dared not speak aloud and thusly lost my voice of reason, and in doing so, I have become a faded memory. I dared not look upon the shallow truth for in the sight of what I wished to never see, I saw only misery and myself falling further into madness. I could not hear past such bitter lies of so sweetly-spoken masterpieces of foul deceiving, could not hear the blatant misspoken fiction woven through precious praises I so sought and yearned; I drowned in my blessed bittersweet delusions. I wished not to feel the painful pulses of wishful thinking, the same wishful thinking that stained my spark and left no more than decayed nothingness of absent honesty and cautious cherishment of which I never understood. I dared not to feel the malicious kisses than sang of loathing attachment and callous caresses from duty-bound fingertips as they licked my body, allowed it to twist so pleasantly in the withering falseness of deluded sentiment. I could not write in words so hollow of what plagued my clouded processor, lost in the translation of whispered licks of dear nothings I had all but grasped.

Alas, thou tryst as I might, I spoke of reasoned love and so forth swam in the salted tides of an empty truth so bidden to lay upon my tempted spark, a burden of tenfold madden-misery in which blinded me to where I never gazed upon the forewarning signs of broken pictures of lies wrung forth in a plague of befallen loathing that ingrained upon my hollowed spark like fine-painted graphics of disturbing rotting corpses. In my darkest moment I yearned for more than the decayed falseness of my delusion mind which so deafened the cries of pitied attachment and vacant cherishment. Along my drowning dip into the ocean of consuming anguish, my spark beheld a rare mistake in that I fell away into the lost translation of distorted moments of bitter nothings that so softly grazed my audios in somber honesty. Ah but pity me for now I see all hidden truth between tender lines that spell out a forlorn song of malicious love!

Thus, here and now, in this blanked night so lost without the burning light of twinkling embers, I lie on my bed of hand-woven sorrow, processor lead astray by one once called, in my ignorant manner, 'My one true Beloved', who but all left me alone in my alienated sufferance, for that of another's affection, to waste away in my own personal damnation.

**Xerocopy** _(photocopy)_

If I were to produce a photocopy of myself, the exact replica of what all else see. Could I see the blatant reasons of why others perceive me so, of my troubled spark beating so yearningly behind this façade of distant feelings? Would I not see the obvious testimony of why I spend my life behind the paned-window blurred with imperfections which, in thus, keep me from all the rest? Will I see the malfunctions that plague my form like parasitic acid that erodes all beauty and leaves only a monstrosity in its wake? Am I so mistaken that I shall spot all of my flaws, ones that only succeed in strengthening this burden barricade in which I cannot break? Or is it the hideousness to which I am that will gaze vacantly back at me?

Or will it be the ugly truth?

**Yonderly** _(mentally or emotionally distant)_

I see their dark optics staring back at me, vacant hollow truth to the silence of the dead yet I find myself absence of all the horror—hence, I feel nothing.

I feel his servos holding me down, strength so crippling that I cannot break free yet I am not panicked with terror—hence, I feel nothing.

I hear the whispered convictions of my distant crimes to which I seem to not recollect yet I do not exert a moment of rage—hence, I feel nothing.

My mouth fills with that of my own fluids, malicious wounds graze my chassis in an embrace of cold death and yet, I am absent of meaningful care—hence, I feel nothing.

In the silence of my bare chamber, tears of somber drip from my anguished ducts, yet I cannot feel the sorrow I suffer—hence, I feel nothing.

Upon my helm the fleeting sensation of a lover's kiss did linger, yet I could not reveal in the sensual affair—hence, I feel nothing.

He gazed with gentle eyes upon my wanton frame, a vibrant smile so bright I blinded myself to my own begotten sin and thusly divulged in the tender act of a simple love and a passing moment of simple bliss—I feel, I feel everything.

**Zoocytium** _(a hollow vessel)_

Calculated reason dare spill forth from my stilled vocalizer, voice so gentle with soundness and assurance. Situations answered with momentarily bliss of conflicts slain in masterpieces of coherence. Alas, knowledge extended beyond the comprehension of thus less fortunate, fleeting envisions of brilliant philosophy captured on stylus in written words of tender judgment.

In this you find me, a simple vessel of sound logic. I compute and see nothing more.

* * *

SingMyLullabySweet666: I hope you enjoyed. :)

The notes for this chapter are provided below:

**[5]** Quote by Anaxagoras.

**[6]** Quote by Ayn Rand.

**[7]** Indecently as in lewdly… I guess. ;) Oh! 'former Decepticon' is my crappy way of saying that this is a sort-of AU were the war is over.

**[8]** I named the sparkling Vavasour, which means feudal noble who is both a liege and a vassal. I found the name appropriate because Megatron is a Supreme Commander while Shockwave is his guardian. If you don't like it (which I'm sure some of you do), I apologize but I really didn't want to give the sparkling a typical name, such as Shadow (which I have seen used numerous time, not that I mind, picking names for sparklings is SO fragging hard!)…. Now that I think about it… Vavasour sounds like a Pokémon name. XD


	20. Mockery

**SingMyLullabySweet666: **Hurah! I have written another chapter... thing. I apologize for it being so short, yet, despite that, I am thrilled with how this turned out. It's a little more in-depth psycologically, meaning you'll probably have to think about it in order to understand it. I tried not to make it overly difficult, however. I'll expain it at the end of the chapter to help you out though. I highly suggest reading my end notes though, as it will give you a great understanding of why the chapter is so vague and analytical.

This is a continutation of _Chapter 1 _and_ Detached_. Please Enjoy!

**Chapter Warning(s):** Angst, Dark Themes, Mild Gore, Mild Violence

**Chapter Rating:** T

* * *

_~*~ The person who tries to live alone will not succeed as a human being._  
_His heart withers if it does not answer another heart._  
_His mind shrinks away if he hears only the echoes of his own thoughts and finds no other inspiration --Pearl S. Buck ~*~_

The room is scarce; an empty chamber for a forgotten memory. The walls encase all that is lonely, silent personas bearing witness to somber lament. Their sheen, glossy, primed finish withers, molding over, scaring as time passes; blotches of chipped luminescent paint and stains of criminal self-loathing decorate the concealing walls. No holograms of memories of discounted, of smiles neglected and reminders of what should have been; wish it could have been… The walls are bear. A prison: self-made, self-induced, all consuming, inescapable prison. His prison, a very lonely one.

The ceiling hangs overhead, a twisted idealistic form of shelter, of a shield to protect him. It can't hold the weight of the failures, of him, so it has begun to sag; belly distended proclaiming it is full. Too full. It should crumble, should have ages ago, but it hasn't. So he waits impatiently for when it does, praying (hopelessly… faithlessly) that it crushes him: shrapnel digging un-forgivingly into his delicate armor, tearing through precious wires and circuits, murdering his being as ever-so-delicate life pours out him, pooling into a puddle of black lies and mistakable failures, mocking his false existence as he baths in it, swims in the ever-lasting promise of nothing while the weight of everything renders him invalid. His weight. Always his weight. The thought is intoxicating.

The floor fares no better. Another lie in his life, another mockery. It dips and raises, testaments to his moods, ever-changing moods, shading when he cannot breathe and blackening when he wishes not to breathe. It provides a ground, a steadiness (however slight it is) in which he desperately craves. Some days, he wants the floor to disintegrate, open up and swallow him whole: plummeting listlessly into the abyss of oblivion; falling way into the sneers and harsh truths of what he is… Worthless, they shall call him (do call him), failure will be named his crime; a deep, prolonged keen of misery will be the song to lull him away, sing to him in a song meant for the wicked, for the lowest of filth. On other days, he wishes for none of this; he wishes for nothing.

There is but a berth, tucked away like a dirty secret in the corner. Such a filthy corner. Yet what good is the berth. It only brings about the unpleasantness of recharge. Memories he wished to forget. Memories he couldn't forget. And the bitter taste of memories he will never have the slightest taste of cherishing. A wicked reminder. He should get rid of it. He doesn't want the reminders. He wants to live in denial… If only for a little while. They dance in his mind though, pretty pictures of morbid delight; rich fulfillment as the sweetness of words dance across his audios, tender moments of unrivaled love, reality bent and morphed, an unconscious effort to better his miserable essence. Then he wakes and his frame wracks heavily with his agony. He is despaired but it is all he is worth. He deserves no better.

The room is scarce. It is his metaphor. The room is empty, will always be empty. He deserves much the same, exists much the same. There is no point in fooling himself. Why play pretend? It hurts less to drown in his truth than to embrace somber lies and watch as everything crumbles.

Lies are forever; Truth is ever-lasting.

In this broken prison, he surrounds himself with the truth, with their voices. They should know. They do know. After all, they remind him every day.

Such a sad thought: Should he cease to exist, who would mourn him? Silly, Starscream… You are not meant to be mourned, only mocked. You hold no place. You are only empty space. Learn this. Live by this rule of decree.

Wither away now. They have grown weary of you. You should not trouble them with your being. It only makes them irritable.

He commits an act of mercy (as he shall trouble them no more). Blackness comes, consumes his vision.

He sees a figure, a mirage Hope towers above him. Optics portray horror and crushing sorrow, pity the ocean they swim in. Ah! trouble yourself not, silly mech: You need not concern yourself with him. Should not. He is nothing, deserves nothing.

You try to stop the flood of pink tides, anchored pristine against broken infection in vain. You speak weak mummers that whisper against his audios. Your voice wavers, shakes with great trepidation.

Blue optics keen in panic as his flaw paints your snowy perfection. He cannot understand, tries but fails to understand: Why bother trying to save the damned? He is not worth your efforts. He is not a fighter. Only a coward. He has failed many times before; he will fail at your request.

A placid smile and the fathom blackness is now reality.

You are nothing but a forgotten memory.

Fade away.

* * *

**SingMyLullabySweet666:** Alright for those of you who might not have understood this, here's what I had in mind when I wrote the piece:

1) The 'He' being adressed throughout the chapter is in reference to Starscream.

2) It might not have been over-bearingly obvious, but Starscream does, in fact, commit the act of suicide. I tried to give hints throughout the chapter: " flood of pink tides" taking reference to spilled Energon.

3) The room describtion is metaphorically a describtion of Starscream.

4) The mech who tries to stop said " flood of pink tides" is none other than Skyfire, which might have been hard to pick out as I only gave the smallest, subtle hint as to who it was: "snowy perfection". I didn't want it to be obvious and I clearly left it open to other options. If someone wanted another mech to be the rescuer, then "snowy perfection" could have just meant a 'pure perfection' in which Starcreams "flaw" (Energon) is tainting.

5) This is, perhaps, one of the hardest observations to key-into: The entire chapter, itself, was a forshadowing of the end. I gave a huge (in my standard, though it's okay to have not pciked up on it) forshadowing in the beginning when describing the walls of Starscream's room: "criminal self-loathing decorate the concealing walls" was meant to be a subtle reference to Starscream committing the act, thusly splattering his Energon on the walls (which were "silent personas bearing witness to somber lament", where "lament" is the portrays the bewitching misery that has plagued Starscream). Also, "murdering his being as ever-so-delicate life pours out him, pooling into a puddle of black lies and mistakable failures, mocking his false existence as he baths in it, swims in the ever-lasting promise of nothing while the weight of everything renders him invalid" is metaphorical as well, as it was described in a whole other situtation, however, described the after-math of Starscream's act of suicide.

6) In working with the idea of Starscream ending his own existence, the story is, indeed, told through his POV, though it may not seem like it. The "You" expressed throughout the story is expressing Starscreams own comtempt of himself, a degrading act with the intent to mock himself for his final failure: The inability to live. Furthermore, I also intended the "He" to demonstrate that Starscream has come to see himself as insignificant, much as he believes others view him, thusly creating a sort of detachment emotionally. Also, the overall progression through this chapter in written (sort of) in the style known as Stream of Consciousness, which is a style of writting that portrays the human thoughts (I.e. humans, when thinking, tend to jump from thought to thought without a brief, subtle change between the two: for example, a person could be thinking about ice cream and how they always get cold after eating it, then begin to think about winter and snow).

7) Finally, I wrote this chapter so analytically because I wanted to: 1) write something different that required more thought that obivious facts written in a story, and 2) I wanted to experiment with psycology in the sense of what it could possibly be like to be so alienated and how that might transgress onto one's own thoughts/views of themselves, especially if the person loaths themselves enough to wish to cease to exist.

I hope everyone enojyed the chapter! Please read and review! I'd love to hear your interpretations of this chapter especially. :)


	21. Bare

SingMyLullabySweet666:

Alrighty everyone. Here's a new little something that hit me spur of the moment. I know that it isn't the continuation of "Mockery" like some of you wanted. Unfortunately, I'm having unexpected difficulty of portraying both sides of the encounter without it being overwhelmingly cliche. I do plan to do a sequel (and at some point, this chapter was going to be the sort of prelude to it) but it might take some time to get back into the right mindset. So, please be patient.

**Chapter Warning(s):** Angst

**Chapter Rating:** PG

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_~*~ When friendship disappears then there is a space left open_

_To that awful loneliness of the outside world_

_Which is like the cold space between the planets. _

_It is an air in which men perish utterly. –Hilaire Belloc ~*~_

_

* * *

_

**(Starscream's POV)**

I can bare many things, and many things I have been forced to bare.

I have felt the scorn of the enemy; the overwhelming sense of failure. I felt it when you disappeared. Such shame I brought upon the science academy, upon my people, upon you. Accusations were thrown and I bore them with as much vigilance as I could muster, yet, buried beneath the spite and venom, grief gripped me and misery showed me blackness. You had been everything to me, my world and my spark but you left, left me alone and broken on some bitter world with not but my memories. Even when everything crashed and burned and I became nothing more than the mockery of everything I once believed in, everything I be-held in high esteem…

I bore it; that, I could handle.

I have felt the ageless weight of guilt and agony. Rumors flew and soon, my processor began to believe the words freely. It had been my fault. Was my fault. Always my fault. So I drowned myself in high grade and projects. Anything and everything to forget. Yet, hushed whispers are not so hushed and the heat of their glares had scorched my frame. I became a hollow essence, am still hollow… I became ugly then.

But it was something I could bare, something I could handle.

I know humiliation. I breathe it, lived it for so many vorns that it has become my most hated enemy, and my most trusted ally. I have been forced to my knees, made to beg and grovel for restoration, for preservation. I have been the martyr for impatience, incompetence… I have been the beaten, the abused. I have shamed and been shamed. I _know_ humiliation. I know of tempered words spewed in a moment of frail powerlessness and I have heard malice barks of the dogs of war. I have bemoaned injustice and shrieked for vengeance. I was belittled and used. I am nothing, was nothing… will always be nothing.

I can bare this sovereign truth; this is something I can handle.

I know the depth of blackness, of pure wickedness. These servos, once tools for the greater good, have become weapons of total annihilation. Innocence stains these servos. The cries of the unjust, of the dead and the breathing caress my audios in a never ending chorus of my sins. Such sins are they. I played the strings, pulled and strummed to my satisfaction, grasped barbs and picked through a melody of sufferance. I was master and manipulator, puppet and puppeteer. I commanded the grandness of wailing, composed a song of misery and wrote the book on pain. I have used to my spark's content, defiled sanctuary's and destroyed a moment of peace. I was fear and death, despair and morality.

I am guilty of all of this and yet, my spark can bare this burden. I can handle this darkness.

I am unworthy. Forgotten. Unwanted… I know what it is liked to be held at distance, to gaze through a window and see nothing. Always look but can never touch. I often see the smiling faces; hear the sweetness of candied laughter… But my lips never turn upwards and my vocalizer only knows an ugly tune. I belong to no one, and no one wishes it to be. I have no love, no passionate moments of true ecstasy… There will never be any. I am no friend. Nothing to everyone and everything to no one. I breathe and waste air, speak and exhaust time… Wish, only to decay hope.

Yet, I can bare this… I can handle this.

I lost you.

You stood before me in a moment of uncertainty, claimed I had lost myself (but I never was). Moments ticked and in the end, I could not be what you wanted me to be. So you left, turned and walked away. You threw me away… But it was my fault. Always my fault. I pushed you… shouldn't have pushed you. I didn't mean to upset you, but I did so anyway and I had to pay the consequence. You do not speak to me, you do not see me. I am invisible…

I cannot bare this…

I do not want to.

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**SingMyLullabySweet666: **Thank you for everyone who read. I hope you enjoyed. Til next time!


	22. Heat

**LeavesofMyself:** So... It's been awhile... Yeah... I'm just gonna get to the point... XD

**Chapter Warning(s):** Crack! pairing (I guess it counts), slash, pure smut, OOC-ness (to a degree), and light swearing. (I think that's it)

**Chapter Rating**: M+ (definitely not suitable for_ anyone_ under the age of 18)

**Pairing**: Grimlock/Megatron (uke!Megatron) [from Animated series]

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**Notes**

Text: Regular text

_Italic_: Thoughts/Emphasis

* * *

A luscious groan slipped through Megatron's vocalizer as a flare of heat encompassed his body, driving up core temperature and fogging his processor as he tried to, to no avail, keep moving in the right direction. His alt-mode swayed, gyros beginning to shut off as his processor redirected 'priorities' within his body, forcing the Decepticon to search the area for a suitable landing space. Unfortunately, as the heat pulsated through his unsuspecting frame, the choice was made for him as his processor shut off all non-vital circuitry, causing the warlord to plummet to the ground unfashionably. Seconds later, he impacted, sending debris and dust into the air, his massive frame carving a crater into the small island he was unpleasantly forced into. Transforming into root-mode, Megatron glanced at his surroundings, hazed optics barely able to make out the distinct shapes of an endless supply of trees before a rather forceful pulse of unbearable heat slammed his frame un-mercilessly, causing the distracted warlord to (and he would deny it later) whimper from the force.

As the heat passed, Megatron was given a brief moment to really study his surroundings, optical scanners taking it the vastness of trees, some trunks charred from an apparent fire (which looked recent to him). His processor coordinated his exact location, before a snarl of annoyance left his vocalizer.

"Fan-fragging-tastic," Megatron hissed as his processor supplied him with his location which just so happened to be the small island known only as Dinobot Island (or that is what the Autobots had deemed it, if his memory core was correct, which he had no doubt it was). Megatron activated his communications hub, or at least tried to, but, upon a diagnostic check, realized they had been taken offline since they had been deemed 'non-critical' for his current… development. A snarl of fury ripped through him as he bashed his fist into the already deep crater creating a smaller crater. _Just what I need_… Another flare of heat forced all thought from his processor as his interface circuitry ignited, his spike hardening instantly and his valve flared to life, lubricant coating its walls as it twitched, as if begging to be filled.

It took several minutes for the flare to die down enough for coherent thought. The warlord was left trembling, optics blazing as his vents huffed for the cool climate air surrounding his frame. Forcing his non-compliant frame to stand, Megatron looked around for somewhere to 'take care' of his little 'issue'. He made it to a rather large tree truck, one that look like it had seen better days as the bark was dark, a sign it had been charred in a fire, before his pedes gave out, another flare of heat demanding his attention.

Megatron groaned, as the heat licked up his spinal strut, spark engorging from the pent up energy, interface hatching opening without consent as his body dictated to his processor what it needed. Megatron leaned against the tree trunk before he traced a black servo down his scorching frame, the light touch leaving a burning inferno in its wake as his sensor net registered the pleasure. Not even hesitating, Megatron gripped his spike around the base before squeezing, moaning from the pleasure. He loosened his grip for a moment as he slid up the length of his spike, gently teasing himself as he dipped a finger into the tip before drawing his servo down the length.

"Frag," Megatron groaned, optics off-lining as pleasure overrode his systems. In an attempt to expel the charge, Megatron moved his servo quickly over his spike, squeezing every now and again as the charge built quickly due to his now heightened sensory net, groaning as each stroke forced him closer and closer to what he desperately needed. His free servo reach down, tracing his valve for a moment before dipping his thick finger inside, a whimper escaping at the feeling. A few strokes and a hard jab to his valve and he overloaded, frame tensing from the suddenness before going lax, vents heaving for cool air to lower his core temperature, which had skyrocketed during the last flare of heat.

"Now to contact Soundwave…" Megatron's words died off as a surprised gasp filled the air, his body tensing from the strongest flare of his heat as of yet, legs clamping together as his valve literally pulsed with need, his spike hardening again. Megatron hissed, his optics flickering as his body twisted with want, processor shortening for several seconds as the flare carried on its warpath. It wasn't until nearly ten minutes later before the flare began to recede, leaving the warlord both exhausted and confused.

_It's never been like this before…_ Megatron moaned weakly as flares pulsated through him, leaving him desiring but lacking with anything to satisfy the strong demand for… something. He didn't even know what it was his body wanted. Sure, he had been through several heats before, it was a natural part of any Cybertronions life cycle, but never had one of his heats been so… vindictive before. He had always been able to expel his heat by simply doing as he just done; a quick masturbation and everything went back to relative normality. He rarely ever took a lover to the berth since there had never been a great need to do so. But now, it seems his little self-satisfaction act wasn't going to do the trick this time. A groan crossed between disbelief and annoyance escaped Megatron as he glared at a random tree in his close proximity.

"Well frag me…"

* * *

Grimlock looked up, optics narrowing in briefly on the foreign object as it crash-landed on _his_ island, audios catching the loud echo of metal meeting soft dirt. A snort of anger escaped the mech as he stood from his spot on the beach. He had been waiting for Swoop and Snarl to return from his trip to the Autobot base, as Snarl had, unintentionally, damaged one of Swoop's wings during their sparring match together. Unfortunately, they couldn't fix the damage, thusly resulting in Snarl being volunteered to take Swoop to the only medic they knew, Ratchet.

Transforming into alt-mode, Grimlock stuck his snout into the air, sucking in a large quantity of air, trying to locate what, and who, had invaded _his_ home. Because he was down-wind from the crash site, he was only able to pick up the musk of loose dirt and scorching metal, which didn't really help him determine who had entered Dinobot Island. Growling in irritation, the large metallic T-rex stomped off into the thick woods of the island.

It took several more whiffs of the air and minutes before he came upon where the 'object' had landed. Transforming into root-mode, Grimlock looked between a few well placed branches to find an empty crater and a large grey mech just beyond its edge, optics offline. His audios picked up the sound of the mech's vents huffing and what sounded like a gargled mesh between a growl and a whimper. Not caring why or what the mech was doing, Grimlock transformed once more into alt-mode before rampaging through the trees, vocalizer bellowing out a loud and fierce warning as he charged at the unsuspecting invader.

* * *

Megatron growled for the umpteenth time that minute as the heat plagued his systems, the flares coming quicker and lasting for a longer duration of time than the last. He was both infuriated at his own body's betrayal as well as his current circumstance that he wanted nothing more than to hunt down his treacherous Air Commander and blast him several times into the ground to relieve some of his stress.

Just as the latest flare died down, the sudden sound of stampeding of pedes drew his attention, optics on-lining in time to see a large and rather violent looking extinct animal approaching. _Slag_… Was his only though before the Warlord was gripped in powerful jaws, razor-sharp teeth denting, but not piercing, his thick hull.

Snarling in anger, Megatron reached back with his free arm, fist smashing into the Dinobot's snout, forcing the mech to growl out in pain, jaw loosening just enough for Megatron to yank free. Lifting his plasma-cannon, Megatron took aim and shot, his hit obliterating the ground beneath the rampaging Dinobot, sending him flying backwards into several trees before he slammed into the ground. A furious growl left Grimlock as he stood, optics blaring bright red as he charge again, mouth full of molten fire.

Megatron dodge to his left as a funnel of flames barreled towards him, scorching the earth and several innocent trees into ash. Optics narrowed as his attacker turned on him and slammed into his frame with enough force to send time flying. As he hit the ground, he tumbled for a moment before he slipped his pedes under him enough to gain ground. Just as he gained his balance, another fireball was sent him way, forcing him to stumble out of the way which, unfortunately, caused him to lose his balance.

In retaliation, Megatron sent another plasma blast his way, hitting the mech square on the chest, his thick hull taking the blunt of the damage. The mech stumbled backwards under the pressure but otherwise remained upright, his optics flaring brightly as a roar of rage tore through the surroundings. Turning on the warlord, Grimlock barreled forward, snout and head low, body elongated and straight as he rammed Megatron into another, though thicker, tree.

Just as Megatron regained his footing, a strong flare ripped through him, causing him to cry out and collapse to his knees, servo clasping over his emblem as his engorged spark pulsed in excitement at the acknowledgment of another living spark near. _Primus_… was all Megatron could think in his overwhelmed processor.

Grimlock, on the other hand, paused, his olfactory sensors picking up a strong and rather intoxicating aroma coming from the invader. His rage calmed as the scent invaded his processor, clouding the storm that had been present during their brief fight. Moving forward, the T-rex stuck his snout in Megatron's chest and inhaled, purring as that wonderful smell invaded his sensors. Growling from the pleasantness of the scent, Grimlock took in another swallow of that luscious smell.

"Get away from me," Megatron hissed, processor still riding the flare but coherent enough to register the mech invading his personal space. The mech growled at the demand causing Megatron's frame to tense at the dominating tone before snarling at his own body's reaction. Grimlock took in one last whiff before he transformed, his large frame towering over Megatron's own.

"You Megatron smell good." Grimlock acknowledged, his visor darkening with lust as his processor fell under the effects of the warlord's heat aroma.

Megatron paused, his processor confused at the idiot's statement before it struck him, hard. Grimlock was affected by his scent. Groaning at the realization and his own stupidity at allowing the mech so close to _become_ so affected by his heat, he took in his surroundings, hoping to find an escape route, but, alas, only found the thick coverage of more trees. _Frag…_

Charging up his cannon, Megatron prepared to shoot the mech square-in-the-face as knelt to his level, body finally relaxing (somewhat) as the flare dissipated, but the mech released another domineering growl, forcing his currently submissive frame to tighten with excitement and anticipation. _Frag it all to the pit_…. This was _not_ in Megatron's agenda today.

Grimlock pushed his face in Megatron's neck, sniffing the scent once more, noting how, while slightly subdued, thick and musky it was. Megatron went rigid, rage and lust battling it out inside his processor. Rage quickly won out as Megatron slammed his fist into the Dinobot's side, crushing the armor despite its thickness. Grimlock snarled in pain and fury as he threw himself onto the Decepticon, his own weight keeping the mech from escaping any further than he already had.

"Get off!" Megatron snarled his optics blazing with fury. To think this simple-minded fool had overpowered him, _him, _Megatron, leader of Decepticon Army, was simply too infuriating to even want to comprehend. _Blasted heat cycle!_

Grimlock snapped his sharp fangs close to the warlord's main energon line in his neck, his own massive servo trapping Megatron's own beneath his before growling deep and low in his chest, causing Megatron to stiffen, a small whine escaping the shocked leader. Grimlock, on the other hand, was pleased with Megatron's reaction, taking it as a sign of submissiveness. He leaned down, his thick glossa slipping out to taste the intoxicating mech beneath him. The moment that glossa touch Megatron's heated frame, said mech hissed, servos flexing and twisting, body trying to throw the one covering his own off in a desperate attempt to escape. There was no way Megatron was going to be this idiot's bitch, not now and not ever… Or so he thought.

Grimlock, tired of the other's resistance, bit down, hard, at the junction of shoulder and neck. Megatron moaned aloud out of shock and the absolute intoxicating pleasure that spread outwards from the bite.

"You mech stop struggling." Grimlock snarled, visor dark with lust, not anger, as he once more tasted the warlord's frame.

"Primus…" Megatron gasped. Grimlock slowly traced his glossa over his mark, causing the frame beneath him to shiver from the pleasurable sensation as Grimlock soothed the area. Grimlock nibbled over his bite before sucking the tender metal, purring with content as Megatron moaned, frame pushing into the pleasure it was receiving.

Pulling away, Grimlock looked at the mech beneath, noting how Megatron had ceased his struggle to escape.

"You Megatron taste good too."

Grimlock shifted, placing most of his weight onto his knees as he pushed himself off of his captive. Grimlock released Megatron's servo, purring once more as the grey mech remained beneath him, a dazed look in his optics. Leaning down, Grimlock began to taste the mech, starting with the heaving vents. Grimlock dipped his glossa around the edge of the vents, nibbling every so often as he drifted downwards, pausing momentarily to lick and suck on his 'claim' mark before continuing onward. Grimlock locked visor with Megatron as he traced the Decepticon emblem branded into the warlord's chest, watching with rapture as the mech beneath him groaned long and low, his frame shivering with pleasure as the sensitive spot of lapped. Smirking, Grimlock dragged his fangs down the emblem enjoying the way Megatron bucked under the sensation. Another moan escaped Megatron, his body doing very little to resist something he needed but didn't particularly want from the mech above him.

"You Megatron make funny noises," Grimlock stated as he dragged his fangs across the emblem again, purring as the mech bucked again, heated frame pushing into his own rapidly heating body, "Me Grimlock like funny noises."

Megatron hissed, optics whitening as the Dinobot dragged his claws down his frame, scratching the surface paint, leaving a trail of burning pleasure in its wake. To make matters worse (at least, in Megatron's processor it was) the ignorant fool traced the gouges with his glossa, turning the burning pleasure into an inferno. _Primus… it feels so fragging good_.

Grimlock moved on, nibbling, sucking, and licking his way down the grey mech's body, tasting every inch of his black, luscious hips before moving on to one of the warlord's grey thighs. Megatron, who had been watching Grimlock's progress, dropped his helm with a 'thump' as the large T-rex bit lightly into his inner thigh metal, body arching as pleasure washed through his systems. He could feel the fool's smirk against his thigh as he bite down once more, this time slightly harder than the last before moving on, licking a trail down the length of his thigh, pausing to give attention to his pedes, nibbling here and there before switching to his other thigh and repeating the process over again.

Megatron whimper as the mech pulled away completely, his mind too far gone in a haze of pleasure to recognize his not-so-warlord-like noises (and even if he was aware, he doubted he would have cared at this point). Grimlock shifted once more, spreading Megatron's thighs wide, visor flaring as he caught sight of the extended spike and dripping valve. He leaned down, olfactory sensors shoved into Megatron's interface unit and sniffed, frame trembling as the scent of heat filled his processor, the aroma sweeter and thicker from this particular place on the mech's body. A bumbling growl of possessiveness tore through him, his processor claiming the mech beneath as _his_ and _his_ alone.

"Me Grimlock make you Megatron mine." And before the warlord could protest that he belonged to no one, the Dinobot opened his mouth and licked Megatron's valve. Megatron exploded with pleasure, his processor slowing from the overwhelming sensation his heighten sensory was providing, as his frame literally jumped into the source of everything. Grimlock, loving the mech's reaction, licked the valve again, slowly drawing his thick glossa from the back of the valve opening to the front, suckling at the outer sensor. A whimper escaped Megatron before he could crush it, he optics brightening out of sheer need.

"Yesss…." Megatron hissed as his valve was lathered with attention. Grimlock took the valve lining in-between his denta, nibbling lightly before soothing the abused area with his glossa.

"Mmph… scheee.. Yes…" Megatron moaned, processor no longer functioning beyond the comprehension of the overwhelming pleasure. Grimlock, absolutely turned on by the sounds spilling out of _his_ mech's lips, gripped the narrow, black hips hard before lifting the heavy frame in a show of strength, slamming the warlord's back into a near-by tree. Megatron, surprised by the action, yelped as his servos scrambled to latch onto something sturdy to keep his balance. A small 'oomph' left him as he was slammed rather violently into a tree. Megatron growled, opening his mouth to protest the sudden position change before it closed and reopened in a gurgled moan, grey thighs tightening around Grimlock's helm as the Dinobot plunged his glossa inside the dripping valve.

"Ah!... Primus…" Megatron groaned. Grimlock curled his glossa, licking at the smooth and ribbed lining, purring as the thick and sweet lubricant washed over his glossa's sensors. Grimlock rubbed his glossa over the lining before pulling it back into his mouth, drinking down the lubricant that followed, shivering at the sweet taste before plunging back in for another go. Megatron arched, his helm thrown back against the tree behind him as his servos held Grimlock's helm in-between his thighs. _Primus… where the slag did this buffoon learn this… oh, frag… there…_

"There, Primus, there, right there," Megatron whimpered, his hips beginning to buck as the charge building within his frame escalated from the Dinobot's assault. Grimlock shifted his servos, gripping the bucking hips and holding them still causing the warlord to hiss at him in annoyance. Grimlock replied with a domineering growl and lapped harder at the mech's top valve-node, stabbing it with his glossa rapidly. Megatron moaned, his frame tensing with an impending overload.

"Yes, yes, yes, yes… Ah, Primus, yes." Megatron was gone, his processor no longer caring that he wasn't dominate in this situation, no longer caring that the mech between his legs had the IQ of a sparkling (a sparkling with one pit of glossa). All he cared about was achieving what felt like one strong overload in any means, even if he moaned like a pleasure model while doing so.

Grimlock slipped his glossa out and, upon hearing Megatron's whine at the loss, suckled on the very outer lode before he bit down on it. It was enough and Megatron cried out, vocalizer fizzled off into a series of gargled moans and whimpers as his frame tightened with overload.

"Ah! Slag me… Yes!" Megatron arched, his spinal strut completely bending away from the tree in a perfect arch, his mouth dropped in a long, continuous moan of pleasure as his optics whitened and then off-lined from the sheer force of the overload. His valve gushed, lubricant flowing from him only to be lapped up by the Dinobot who was still licking and suckling his valve, trying to catch every last drop of that sweet-tasting liquid.

Several minutes later, the effects of the overload began to waver, Megatron's frame relaxing into the smooth bark behind him as his vents sucked in cool air. An exhausted whimper left him, unnoticed, as Grimlock gave one last lick to the still twitching and oversensitive valve, before he lifted Megatron's heavy frame and placed him onto the ground. Megatron stretched, pulling loose cables that remained taunt after his rather processor-blowing overload. Just as Megatron was about to drop off-line for some much need recharge, Grimlock's own large frame settled over his and a set of lips claimed his in a bruising, possessive kiss. Startled, Megatron forced his optics on-line, taking in the sight of the Dinobot who was currently crushing him into the ground. Megatron frowned, or would have if he wasn't currently having his mouth raped by Grimlock's, as he tasted his own essence on the other's glossa. When the mech pulled away, Megatron found his vocalizer and hissed out:

"What the slag do you think you're doing?"

Grimlock frowned, before he pushed his own large hips into the black ones below him, "You Megatron overload, now it me Grimlock's turn. Me Grimlock take you Megatron, make you mine."

Megatron's optics widened in surprise, before he snarled, body, while severely fatigued, jolted with a flare of excitement at the notion of being completely dominated (something that did not sit well with the warlord, no one dominated him). Confused by his own body's reactions, Megatron began to struggle, wanting as far away from the mech causing all of the confusing yet pleasure sensations within him. Grimlock, confused and displeased by Megatron's struggling, did the only thing he knew would weaken and 'disarm' the mech's attempt to escape; he slipped a servo between their frames and traced the grey mech's valve, pulling gently on the still oversensitive outer node.

"Gah!" Megatron tensed once more, frame heating at the finger invading his interface unit. Grimlock circled the valve as he shifted his weight once more onto his knees, drawing away from the scorching frame beneath him to have better access to the dripping heat.

"Me Grimlock know you Megatron want clang-clang. Me Grimlock give it to you. Me Grimlock make you Megatron feel good." The Dinobot stated with pride as he slipped his finger into the valve, groaning, himself, at the tight, sopping wet heat he felt.

Before Megatron could even comprehend want Grimlock meant by 'clang-clang' he gasped at the feeling of a lone finger penetrating his very, rarely used valve, twisting and whimpering at the wonderful feeling it induced in his frame. Moments later, it was moving and _oh Primus _it felt sooo _fragging good_. Wanting more of the sensation, Megatron pushed back into the finger as it teased his valve, the thick digit stretching the lining in preparation for a far larger object.

"See, me Grimlock right. You mech like making clang-clang." Grimlock then shifted his hand, allowing Megatron to penetrate himself onto his digit while using his thumb to tease and stimulate the outer node. A long, low groan left the grey mech's vocalizer as another heated charge began to build within his frame, his valve dripping more lubricant as it was stimulated. Grimlock lifted a second finger and when Megatron pushed back, two thick digits slipped into his valve.

"Oh…" his vents panted as he whined at the feeling of being stretched. _It's been too long _since he allowed anyone to even look at his valve, let alone 'fuck' it (oh, the human's had such a vulgar language but the word sounded so much naughtier in this situation and just rolled off the vocalizer). Grimlock continued his slow, and torturous, preparation, his own frame taunt with the need to just shove his spike into the dripping heat but his processor voicing that it wasn't wise, considering he was quite large (larger than Swoop or Snarl at least). It was the only reason he was even preparing the mech below him; he did not want a repeat of the Swoop incident.

"Hah… ah…. oh…" Megatron could only moan, whimper, and whine as the two thick digits slammed into his valve, pointed ends curling to scrape along his sensors causing his frame to twitch and buck from the pleasurable pain. Grimlock lifted his free servo and grabbed a hold of the bucking hips, again, and halted Megatron's pleasure, causing the warlord to growl in annoyance, again. Grimlock hushed the grey mech before pulling his fingers completely out and then slowly entering three digits, watching Megatron's face twist at the sensation of being stretched over three thick fingers. He waited a few heated moments before moving his fingers, pulling them out and then plunging them into the soaking wet valve, twisting and scraping against lining nodes, watching and listening to the mech's pleasured cries, holding firmly as black hips _tried_ to buck against the wonderful feeling. Grimlock continued his torture for several more minutes, pulling his digits out and slamming them home again before he removed them completely, deeming the mech prepared (and the lack of control against his own body's demands).

Grimlock shifted back over Megatron and spread the grey thighs wide. He slipped in-between them, his wide hips pressing Megatron's own into the ground and forcing those luscious thighs even wider. Megatron on-lined his optics (he couldn't recall when he had off-lined them) and, in his haze, shifted his thighs up and out, spreading himself wide open for the Dinobot's claiming. Grimlock released his interface cover, which had become impossibly tight, and his spike pressurized instantly, the large spike springing from its home in seconds. Megatron's optics caught sight of the large spike and groaned in hot need (it was large, true, but more so in girth than length, though, overall, it was a rather impressive piece of metal). Megatron spread himself to the point of over-stretching, giving Grimlock an ample amount of room.

"Me Grimlock going to put spike in you Megatron now. Me Grimlock make you feel really good." Grimlock stated as he grabbed a hold of his spike a placed the heated tip against Megatron's equally hot valve. Megatron groaned, helm thumping against the soft dirt and his optics shuttered… Primus he was wanted this… Needed it. Grimlock dragged the tip of his spike up and down against the valve, drawing it from the front to the back before dipping in the wet heat slightly only to repeat the process over again. Megatron growled in impatience, wanting the mech to impale him already.

"What are you waiting for?" Megatron hissed, optics narrowing in irritation at the teasing. Grimlock smirked, pressing a bit deeper into the valve as his spike passed over the opening before he pulled away again.

"Me Grimlock want to hear you Megatron beg for clang-clang." Megatron stiffened, optics narrowing in fury at the audacity of the mech above him. He was Megatron, fearless leader of the Decepticon Army… He didn't beg (and he didn't take it up the valve), but things had a way of turning up-side down… Now was one of those times.

That infuriating smirk still stretched across the Dinobot's mouth as he teased Megatron's valve further, pressing the tip of his spike completely into the valve, trusting in quick, sharp motions, enough to stimulate but not enough to satisfy before be pulled away. Megatron's moan died off into a growling whine, his optics glaring heatedly at Grimlock, who only continued to smirk down at him. Swallowing his pride, Megatron caved.

"Frag me… Now!"

Grimlock snorted, hips shifting before the spike returned to Megatron entrance, before pushing in until the tip was covered by the slick lining once more and stopped. Megatron groaned, hips bucking in attempt to impale himself on the thick spike, but strong servos held him still.

"Slag it… Frag me already!"

Grimlock pushed deeper but still refused to satisfy the warlord's hunger until he begged. Megatron, thoroughly frustrated by the lack of fragging, whined.

"Move, please… Just fragging move… Do something, anything… Just, Primus, _fuck_ me," and the purr of absolute thrill that followed turned Megatron on even more (if that was even physically possible at this point). Grimlock pulled back before slamming home in one, forceful push, watching as Megatron's optics widened in surprise and rapture, his hips arching into his own and his mouth dropping down in a silent moan of pure, unadulterated pleasure.

_Primus… _The spike felt so good, forcing open his tight, under-used valve. The stinging _pain_ that tore through him only added to the muddled pleasure plaguing his system. He hadn't ever been stretched so… completely. It was the first time he could ever remember feeling so _fragging full_.

Grimlock held still as he noted the flash of pain tear through Megatron's optics. Moments later, the black hips pushed into his own and he shivered from the sensation. He pulled back, his large, thick spike dragging and pulling on sensors long forgotten before pushing in, watching, fascinated, as the tight opening split apart as his spike pierced into it. Grimlock relished the moan drawn from those pretty lips and his spike seated once more into the mech below him. Grimlock kept the pace slow, enjoying his domination over such a terrifying mech. Half-way into his tenth thrust, he felt that tight valve tighten impossibly more as it twitched. Confused, Grimlock broke his gaze with the valve and looked at Megatron face just in time to watch it twist in a gripping overload. Grimlock, rather pleased with his ability to pleasure the mighty warlord, smirked.

"That make two overloads for you Megatron. Me Grimlock just that good." Grimlock stated as he continued thrusting, this time the thrusts slow but hard, each push of his hips slamming home in the still tighten valve.

Megatron whined, it was too much but, _Primus_, he didn't want it to stop. In the height of his overload, Megatron braced his servos beneath and pushed up with what little strength he hand before slamming his lips of Grimlock's (just to shut him up), the position forcing him halfway into the Dinobot's lap. Grimlock paused in his thrusting, surprised by Megatron's forceful kiss. Purring, Grimlock returned the kiss, shifting the mech in his lap before he thrust up into that intoxicating heat.

"Ah!" Megatron pulled away from the kiss, surprised by the long brush over his extremely sensitive valve nodes before whimpering as the pleasure had little time to ebb away before it was reignited. Grimlock continued to keep the pace slow and hard, enjoying each twitch and noise that escaped _his_ mate (or so he thought of Megatron as).

"You Megatron like that? You like me Grimlock's large spike?" The thrusts quickened, not enough to build Megatron's third charge enough that he'd overload a third time, but enough to send a never-ending cascade of pleasure throughout the weary mech's systems.

"Mmm… Frag… huuuh…. Slag it, frag me… Frag me!" Such sensual noises the warlord was making Grimlock concluded. Growling out his pleasure, Grimlock slammed his thick spike into Megatron's valve, watching as that delicious face twisted with pleasure. Smirking, Grimlock remained seated within the tight heat and, instead, grabbed Megatron's hips and gyrated it back and forth, shoving the blunt end of his spike scratching across nodes and jabbing at the mesh of valve end and gestational chamber beginning. Megatron trembled, harder than before, his frame rattling as it was pleasured and manipulated by an apparently knowledgably mech (at least, knowledgeable of _this_ activity anyway). His vents panted harder, whimpers shoving their way out every other second as that spike was moved so perfectly so within him.

Not being able to take it anymore, Megatron growled low in his chest, summoning up the little strength he had left and shoved the large frame of the Dinobot into the ground. He leaned over the mech, optics blazing a furious crimson as he titled his hips slightly and began to ride Grimlock with abandon. Black hips lifted and slammed down in a desperate pace, moans spilling out of his vocalizer as each motion downwards slammed the blunt tip of the over-sized spike against the back of his valve. Black servos clenched against the golden chest they were braced against, leave gouged scratches from the sheer force.

Grimlock was surprised by the action but no less willing to comply with the warlord's need for a third (and presumably final) overload of the day. He quickly grabbed the mech's hips as he adjusted himself; he planted his feet before slamming upwards into each slam downwards of Megatron's hips. Grimlock growled in approval, enjoying the new frenzied pace as his own overload, which had been building from the very start, began to climb higher and higher.

"Yes! Primus, yes… Oooh… Yes, yes, yes!" Megatron abandoned all pride, his overload (possibly the strongest he's ever felt) pulling him to move quicker, whining as Grimlock shifted once more and the tip of his thick spike slammed head on (no pun intended) into his most recessive and sensitive node (one that none of his lovers, who he allowed to spike him, ever reached).

"Primus, yes. There…. Frag me there, right there."

And Grimlock complied, making sure each thrust upward slammed the node repeatedly. Megatron began to slow down, his thrusts downwards longer and more drawn out as the beginnings of his overload gripped him. Grimlock snarled in anticipation of the mech's third overload, his spike still piston-ing into Megatron as his own overload approached. Grimlock could feel the valve beginning to ripple over the length of his spike and double his efforts, wanting to finish the same time the warlord did. Hissing, Grimlock took hold of Megatron and flipped their position. He grabbed the grey mech's thigh and threw them impossibly wide (enough so that Megatron hissed in discomfort, which dampened his overload slightly) and pounded into the valve, wet sounds echoing in the quiet surroundings. As Grimlock's hips pounded into Megatron's, Megatron's were slammed into the ground beneath him, causing spider-cracks to web their way through the soft dirt and mossy grass.

"Me Grimlock want you mech to scream him name when you finish! Me want whole world to know you belong to me Grimlock! You Megatron my mate now!"

Megatron only moaned as his overload began to crash through his systems. A few more hard and deep thrusts later, Megatron was thrown over, his overload hard and long, pounding wave after wave into his exhausted and pleasure-shot systems.

"Primus, oh primus… I-I'm gonna… Yes, yes… Frag yes… Oooh.. Grimlock!"

He came, valve clenching tightly around the thick girth still piston-ing inside of him, which only added to the overall pleasure. Megatron's frame arched completely off the ground, his helm and hips the only things left touching the soft surface. Megatron's scream died off into a silent whine, his processor absolutely pleasure-shot. Megatron was aware of a deafening roar ringing throughout his audio as Grimlock seated his spike completely within him, the tip pushing into his gestational chamber where he felt the scalding hot rush of transfluid spill into. Sharp fangs re-entered the previous bite mark in his neck, harder than any other time before, claiming him, marking him as the Dinobot's. The feeling of the rush of liquid inside of him, the bite, and the notion of this claim threw him back over into a small, but no less pleasurable, overload.

As the world blackened around him, Megatron was aware of a heavy mass settling above him, pushing him into the ground. With a groan, Megatron off-lined, systems completely worn down from the long 'session'.

It was dark when red optics on-lined slowly, the glow dull but aware. A groan escaped a tired and static-laced vocalizer as stiff cables were stretched only for the mech to pause as the press of a large mass in his highly sensitive valve shocked him. He hadn't realized that the mech settled above him off-lined still deeply seated within him. Frowning, the mech drew up his tired thighs, hugging the wide hips and grabbing the massive shoulders, Megatron heaved, pushing all of his strength into rolling the duo over. The movement forced the spike deeper into his sore valve, forcing out a groan of discomfort. Just as he was pulling himself off the spike, large golden servos gripped his hips and forced him back down, a grunt leaving him as his valve nodes screamed in pain.

"Me Grimlock sorry. Wasn't completely alert… You Megatron okay?" Grimlock whispered softly, his blue visor softening with concern. Megatron frowned, not wanting to be coddled, but nodded, before pushing himself off of the spike once more, Grimlock helping.

Megatron, once off of the spike, stretched, loosening sore and tired cables. Happy that he was no longer stiff and shoved into the ground, he rested against Grimlock's hips, optics lazily watching as the T-rex lifted his own servos above his helm in a long stretch of his own. Grimlock gaze up at the warlord and smirked. Megatron's appearance was less than presentable: His chest was covered in eight superficial scratches, ones that dug deep enough to peel surface paint and primer but not enough to draw energon. His right shoulder plating was dented from their brief battle. His thighs were 'bruised,' dark brown (cause that's what it looks like to me) paint smears littered the lithe beauties. Grimlock also took note that the grey thighs were crusted with dried lubricant and traces of transfluid that had escaped the valve. Megatron's optics were dull, energy severely depleted after his four overloads and heat induced state. A lazily frown stretched around his plump and bruised lips. Megatron, in turn, raised an optic higher than the other in question, but Grimlock ignored the quiet inquiry. Instead, he sat up, wrapping his thick arms around the warlord's narrow waist and nuzzled the side of Megatron's neck, just over the bite mark.

"What the slag are you doing?" the question was given without bite, the words stated merely out of simply curiosity and the lack of energy to truly fight the T-rex.

"Me Grimlock made you Megatron overload four times in clang-clang. Me Grimlock proven me good mate. You Megatron satisfied… Make you Megatron me Grimlock's mate."

Megatron stiffened, the notion of being 'claimed' in anyway was incomprehensible but in all truth, it was exactly what the mech had done. Groaning, Megatron tried to think of a way out of his predicament but with his current low supply of energon within his body, his processor was foggy and couldn't come up with a single solution. Growling softly in irritation, Megatron allowed himself to be subjected to the other mech's…. affections.

After a while of… nuzzling, Grimlock allowed Megatron to pull away. Once he was free, Megatron stood and stretched once more, frowning as he could feel the sloshing of Grimlock's transfluid within his gestational chamber. No previous mech, who he allowed to take him, was ever permitted to overload inside him. The feeling was strange, unaccustomed, but distinctly comforting, a feeling that greatly bothered the warlord but one he wasn't willing to ponder over at the current moment. Maybe when he was safely back in his chambers on the Nemesis with his tanks full of energon and his processor un-muddled from a four-overload induced haze. Still, Megatron couldn't deny that it only strengthen Grimlock's… claim… over him. A thoughtful frown took over his face before he switched to surprise as a gentle kiss was placed onto his helm.

Alarmed optics glanced at Grimlock who only smiled and turned to face something just over his shoulder. Another, deeper, frowned pulled over his features as he had a sinking feeling. Turning, ever so slowly, Megatron was met with four pleased-looking optics and ten shocked ones. Megatron groaned….

"Oh, frag me."

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**LeavesofMyself:** How do you like them apples? lol Sorry, it was a plot bunny running rampant through my head lately. Generally, I love Megatron as a dominating aft-head, but every now and again, it's much more enjoyable to watch him in the submissive role. :P Grimlock just happened to get lucky enough to take the seme position. Anyway, quick note, I am currently working on another ABC drabble (with a twist) that centers mostly around Starscream (there are a few centering around other characters) but some of the drabble directly relate or further advance the plote of 'Chapter 1,' 'Detached,' and 'Mockery'. So please stayed tuned, I know how much alot of you enjoyed that particular... 'universe' (?). Until it's completed, I figured I would give a little something to tie you over.

Well, I'm off. I hoped you enjoyed this chapter. It was different and sooooo much fun to write.


	23. Heat, part 2

**LeavesofMyself: **I just couldn't resist. Enjoy!

**Chapter Warning(s):** Mild language use, mentions of mpreg, some explicit content (though not in the form of interfacing).

**Chapter Rating:** T

**Pairing:** mentions of Grimlock/Megatron (uke!Megatron) [from Animated universe]

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_Well this is just fan-fragging-tastic._

Megatron stifled the sigh of exasperation that wanted to escape his lips as he glared at the group surrounding Grimlock and him. He couldn't decided what he wanted most at this particular moment, as he watched the faces slip from shock to various other emotions (that bumbling yellow fool scrunched his face in mortified disgust and the medic's slipped into an amused smirk). He was torn between shooting everyone in sight and hoping that a sinkhole would open up underneath him.

Megatron shifted as the Autobots bore into him; he was used to scrutinizing (especially by his Second in Command) but this was ridiculous. He watched as optics raked over his frame, taking in each dirty detail of an 'affair' that should have never really happened. Aggravated, Megatron sneered at his 'audience'.

"Stop acting like sparklings for frags sake!"

His outburst seemed to work, as whatever daze had fallen over the Autobots was shaken off, glazed and mortified (and a few curious) hazes gave way to clarity. Megatron nodded a little to himself before he glanced at the small circle encompassing Grimlock, noticing how each Dinobot gave their leader praise for, as they called it, a 'good mate'. His crimson optics shifted to Grimlock's face, a frown of irritation forming over his features as he took notice to the smirk plastered across Grimlock's mouth and his attitude that practically screamed of cocky pride. Growling once more in annoyance, Megatron turned to leave and made it as far as the tree line of their little clearing before he was stopped by a servo on his shoulder. Stiffening, Megatron turned to snap at Grimlock but was cut off guard when the servo on his plating belonged the Autobot's overly grumpy medic, who still had a teasing and amused glint to his optics.

"You're not leaving before I examine you."

It took Megatron a moment before the words sank in. His optics hardened, narrowing in on the mech in front of him as he bared his denta in a sneer.

"Do not order me about, medic," Megatron warned as he shook that servo from his shoulder plating, ignoring the medic's glare sent his way. Turning, he went to leave but was stopped, again.

"I don't like repeating myself," was all Megatron got before he felt a slight prick at the base of neck and in the next moment, his legs collapsed out from under him, sending him falling face first into the soft earth below his pedes. A pair of white servos caught him mere moment from impact and lifted his heavy frame. Megatron simply blinked the shutters over his optics, completely taken back by the medic's audacity. Out of the corner of his optics, Megatron noticed Grimlock's stiff form, his frame dancing back and forth as if he were torn between charging the mech pulling away from the group or simply standing there and letting the medic do his job. At the moment, Megatron really wouldn't have minded if the buffoon 'came to his rescue'.

"You all stay here and don't you dare try to peep or I'll weld your fragging afts to your faces! That goes double for you Grimlock!" Ratchet bellowed just before he pulled the heavier frame of Megatron from the clearing. The medic walked several hundred feet into the somewhat thick forest of Dinobot island before resting his 'patient' against the trunk of a rather large tree.

Megatron glared at the mech in front of him, anger seeping into his electromagnetic field as he was rested against the tree. He wanted nothing more than to blast his fusion cannon into that infuriating amused smirk plastered across the mech's face.

"I can undo the paralysis, if you promise to cooperate," Ratchet offered, his optics softening somewhat as he stood above the immobilized warlord. Megatron growled low in his vocal processor, sending a warning. The mech above shrugged and settled between Megatron's stained thighs, causing the warlord to stiffen in apprehension and disapproval.

"I'm not going to do anything," Ratchet offered as he reached into his sub-space and pulled out a few cloths and a small hand-held device (one what Megatron assumed was a diagnostic tool). Just as the white servo moved to touch Megatron's thigh, the warlord let loose a deep, furious growl, his optics dilating to mere pinpoints as they narrowed in fury. Huffing, the medic threw Megatron a glare of his own.

"I said I wouldn't anything, frag it!"

In the medic's moment of annoyance, he reached up and around the base of Megatron's neck and in the next moment; all sense of movement came crashing back into the grey mech's systems. Feeling somewhat relieved that he could fight the medic off if necessary, Megatron sunk back into the tree behind and lazily watched as the medic before him cleaned all traces of evidence of his previous 'activities' before tapping against his covered port. The action, while expected, still caused Megatron to stiffen once more.

"If you do anything funny medic-"

"Oh quit your fragging whining, princess, I'm only going to examine your port. Primus! you're worst at this then Bumblebee!" Ratchet huffed.

Ignoring the insult, for the moment at least, Megatron opened his port covering, unable to stifle the wince that overtook him as the cool air caressed his intimate equipment. Ratchet gently pulled at the warlord's hips, trying to get the mech to slid forward a bit. Megatron, taking the hint, slid down the base of the tree trunk until only his upper back-plating touch the tree. Without saying a word, Ratchet took a fresh cloth and coated it with an antiseptic cream before he gently cleaned the area around Megatron's port. Once finished, Ratchet sterilized his servos before he pushed Megatron's legs wider and closer to the mech so that the warlord's knees brushed against his chest-plates.

"Hold still," was the only warning Megatron got before two digits pushed into his port causing Megatron to grunt at the intrusion. After a few moments of prodding and poking here and there, the medic withdrew the digits.

"You're somewhat dry. You're lubricant reservoirs are low which means it'll take a few hours before your body can replenish what was lost," Ratchet mumbled as he fiddled with the device in his hand. Megatron only relaxed into the tree behind him, ignoring both the medic's comment and the small wave of need rolling through him.

Ratchet reached up and opened Megatron's medical access ports before he plugged his device in. As the device beeped, a clear signal that it was reading the mech's systems, Ratchet punched in a few buttons and set the device aside. He looked back at Megatron and frowned.

"I can tell by the slight protrusion of your amour that your gestation tank is full or close to it. Unless you wish to bare Grimlock a sparkling, I would advise you drain it as soon as you reach your base; I don't have the proper tools with me to do it here. Incubation period of transfluid is somewhere between a few hours to a couple of days, depending on your heat cycle and when it peaks." Ratchet explained as he periodically checked on the readings from the device, which had yet to complete its diagnostic.

Megatron nodded in acknowledgment, his processor understanding the severity of the advice. All mechs, whether bonded or not, could conceive during a heat cycle as it doesn't require spark energy to produce the new born spark. When a mech, or femme, enters heat, his or her spark engorges with excessive energy and, during an overload, the excessive energy would explode outward, traveling the mech's frame before dissipating (which is why, during a heat cycle, overloads were so much more pleasurable). The result of the 'explosion' of energy could be that a piece of the mech's original spark had separated and would then be nestled in the spark chamber while the protoframe was built in the gestation chamber. If the gestation chamber lacked the necessary amount of donor fluids (the transfluid from their partner) then the protoframe would either abort (if it had already had begun to form) or it simply would grow at all. The spark would then get reabsorbed into the mech's or femme's spark. This was precisely the reason why many mechs and femmes and sought complete isolation from society; too many unwanted and accidental sparklings resulted from heat.

The device let out a loud, long beep, signaling that it had finished it diagnostic analysis. Ratchet picked up the tool and scrolled through the results, mumbling to himself every now and then; the words to low and distorted for Megatron to pick up on. Several minutes passed by before Ratchet looked up, a slight frown on his face.

"It appears that you're still in heat. Apparently, due to the lack of lubricant in your reservoirs, your systems have, momentarily, rerouted. Once you're reservoirs are at an acceptable level for lubrication during interfacing, you're systems will reroute once more and your heat cycle will phase back in."

Megatron couldn't help the groan of exasperation at the news. Just what he needed…

A smirk played out across Ratchet's features as he continued, "And, judging from your scent and the way your optics are beginning to darken, I would say you don't have much longer. Furthermore, according to the diagnostic run, you'll begin peaking too…" Ratchet trailed off, but the warning was heavy in the air.

Megatron frowned, that hadn't been what he wanted to hear. He was already beginning to feel the tale-tail signs of his heat returning. He had hoped he would have time to make it back to base and empty his gestation chamber before his heat would resume. Now he have to content with waiting, which wasn't the most brilliant plan, as the chamber was already close to full and if his spark did happen to split itself during the 'explosion' of excessive energy, he would, without a doubt, conceive.

Huffing, Megatron closed his port cover and stood, taking a moment to stretch out the kinks in his wiring before relaxing, as much as he could. Ratchet also stood, having taken the opportunity to return his tools to his sub-space compartments while Megatron was contemplating his situation.

"Time to find a new location," Megatron mumbled to himself as he turned to leave.

"Won't work."

Megatron cursed as the medic ruined his chance of escape for a third time that evening. Turning, once again, to face Ratchet, he questioned, "And why not?"

"Grimlock," was the simple answer he received.

"What about the buffoon?"

"He believes you are his mate. He's not going to willingly let you leave Dinobot island, especially not when you're heat comes fully back online."

"I'll just leave before it does."

"Still won't work. I can smell the scent of your heat already."

Megatron frowned, the medic was right.

_Fan-fragging-tastic_.

* * *

**LeavesfromMyself:** Well, it may not be exactly what you were hoping for, but I hope you still like it. Don't worry though, more naughiness involving these two will appear sooner or later (most likely sooner).


	24. Heat, part 3

**LeavesofMyself:** Hey everyone! Hope you've all had a wonderful summer and those of you returning to school, hope the first week or so (depending on where you're attending) have gone off without a hitch. Unfortunately, I haven't been as lucky. My laptop died a week before my classes (I'm a senior in college) began, so any future chapters I have started are currently inaccessible. My laptop crashes hardcore after only being on after a minute to a minute and a half. Insert serious sad face here. Luckily though, I was able to enter safe mode on my computer and back up my files, so I have them stored on an external hard-drive at the moment. So my ABC Starscream project is safe… for the moment. Anyway, I wanted to update… something since it's been close to four months since my last chapter. I hope you all enjoy.

**A/N:** This is a continuation of the Grimlock and Megatron tidbits.

**Chapter Warning(s): **Slight explicit content (not in the form of interfacing) and mild violence.

**Chapter Rating: **Very light T (to stay safe)

**Pairing:** Grimlock/Megatron, uke!Megatron (set in Animated universe)

* * *

"I am not your mate," Megatron muttered for the umpteenth time that hour, his right optic twitching in irritation as he quite literally stumbled through the thick forestry of Dinobot Island, "so quit following me."

Megatron paused and turned in mid-stride, his dulled and exhausted optics glaring at the large mech behind him, anger quickly bubbling as Grimlock merely ignored his statement… again. Grimlock simply stood there, waiting for his _mate_ to proceed toward their destination, a smirk of amusement stretched across his facial features. In a fit of undulated rage, Megatron lifted his fusion canon and fired, sending a surprised Grimlock sailing through the air and into multiple trees before he landed in a heap. Megatron, satisfied with Grimlock's now smoldering and, most importantly, immobile form pushed onward, his pedes leaving distinct imprints behind him in the moist ground.

The heavy silence dragged on as Megatron moved toward the outer banks, his processor detailing every moment of the past few days. His heat cycle had been seemingly endless. Not long after that Autobot medic, Ratchet, had warned him that his heat had only just begun, he had re-entered heat within minutes of said warning. The next thing he had known, a rather large and slightly crazed Grimlock had come storming into the opening with Optimus following not far behind, protests spouting from his lips as he tried to rein Grimlock back to the others. Grimlock had only snarled a dangerous warning before he locked eyes with the medic, who, after glancing at the warlord, backed away slowly, so as not to raise alarm. Grimlock allowed Ratchet to slip by him but not without a complimentary snarl, letting the amused medic know that Megatron belonged to him. Moments later, the grey warlord had found himself shoved back into the tree he had been resting on and fragged continuously until both mechs had passed out from exhaustion. The next three days had proceeded much the same.

Megatron, lost in processor, did not realize he had reached his destination until he felt finger tips lightly brush his armor plating, just over the dent he had received during his brief battle with the current bane of his existence that had started… everything. Megatron glanced Ratchet and nodded in acknowledgement.

"Go wash up in the lake, I'll get my tools," Ratchet offered as he walked towards his temporary camp. Megatron moved towards the edge of the water, his processor still preoccupied with the latest events.

Ratchet had chosen to stay behind on Dinobot Island, reasoning with his team that it would currently be better if he was closer to the warlord due to the mech's current situation. Optimus was hesitant, fearing that Grimlock would disapprove of his presence. Ratchet had calmed his worries with stating that he would make camp well away from the duo. Megatron snorted in annoyance, greatly disliking the idea that the medic thought he needed a 'babysitter'. He may have been in heat, but he could still take care of himself. He _was_ Megatron after all.

Momentarily silencing his thoughts, Megatron waded into the lake until the water lapped calmly at his mid-thighs. Reaching down, he scrubbed at the dried lubricant and transfluid that stained his armor, wincing as the sensors there fired off rapidly, causing a suppressed ache to spread throughout the tender area. Once finished, Megatron moved back onto the shore and glanced at the edges of the thick forestry, searching for the mech of his current predicament. Seems as if he was still immobilized… Good. Megatron wasn't in any mood to see the mech right now.

"Alright, get over here so we can get this over with. I've been here long enough," Ratchet barked, shifting impatiently from pede to pede, a thread of annoyance lacing through his electromagnetic field.

Grumbling at the disrespect, Megatron moved toward the medic at the leisurely pace. Ratchet huffed, his ire raising as the grey mech took his time.

"Sometime this solar cycle, princess."

Megatron growled in warning, his arm attached to his fusion cannon twitching. Ratchet only smirked back at Megatron, completely disregarding his threat.

Just as Megatron reached the red and white ambulance, Grimlock came bursting through the trees, optics instantly locking onto Megatron's exhausted frame. The T-rex moved swiftly to the mech's side and instantly attached himself 'to his hip' as he watched his medic friend, a war beginning inside the large mech as Ratchet began to trail his optics over his _mate's_ form.

Ratchet directed Megatron to sit down on the tarp he had prepared with his body propped against Grimlock's own (an idea Megatron was non-to-thrilled-about) and to spread his legs wide apart. Once they were in position, Ratchet reached forward and opened Megatron's medical access port, plugging in, once more, the diagnostic tool before setting aside as it began to analyze Megatron.

"Open your port covering," Ratchet ordered. Grimlock growled in disapproval, his processor bellowing that only he should ever see that part of the warlord. Megatron snorted and shoved his helm into the mech's face, smirking with pride as the growl tampered off into a hiss of pain. Ratchet merely rolled his optics in their housing as he cleaned Megatron's port. Just as he had earlier that week, Ratchet, non-too-gently shoved his fingers into the sore port, drawing a low whimper from Megatron, which, in turn, caused Grimlock to snarl in anger.

"What's wrong princess? Sore?" Though the phrasing seemed mocking, Ratchet's tone was all too serious.

"Very."

Ratchet frowned but wasn't the least bit surprised. Megatron, from the information he had already gather from the mech, had gone through a rather unusual heat cycle (unusual to Megatron anyway). Apparently, the warlord's previous heat cycles had only lasted an Earth day or two, however, this latest one had lasted twice as long.

"I don't have anything to give you for that. You're just going have to deal with it for the time being."

Silence stretched on after that as Ratchet examined the warlord's aching port. Every now and then, the medic's fingers would press into or brush over a particularly sensitive area within the port which caused a wince or another low hiss of pain from the grey mech. When Ratchet finished, he removed his fingers much more gently than he had before.

"Your reservoirs are low again, nothing surprising there. Other than that, you're fine; no tears or rips to the valve lining. Given time, the soreness will ebb away as well," Ratchet paused as he pointedly glanced at Grimlock, who apparently took the hint as a frown stretched over his face and his shoulders sagged in disapproval.

Ignoring Grimlock's 'misfortune', Ratchet lifted his hands and rested them lightly against the small bulge of Megatron's abdomen plating and pressed down, optics focused on his valve, noting, with a frown, that no transfluid leaked from the port. Ratchet reached into his sub-space and pulled out a bottle of lubricant. He lubricated one of his hands before he placed it at Megatron's valve, pausing only a moment to glance at said mech in warning, before he pushed his hand in. The warlord groaned at the pressure but otherwise remained passive. Several more minutes of silence ticked by as Ratchet examined even further in Megatron's valve. The frown on Ratchet's lips grew deeper as he removed his hand and wiped it clean on a rag.

"You're cervical inducer is closed." Ratchet noted, his tone thoughtful.

"What exactly does that mean?"

"Do you know what you're cervical inducer is for?"

Megatron growled, the sound resonating from deep within his frame. "I'm not incompetent."

Ratchet snorted, as if in disbelief, before he continued, "Well, at the current moment, your body is trying to keep Grimlock's transfluid in your gestational chamber. You do realize this is very serious. As you went your entire heat cycle without expelling the additional fluid, you were at a higher risk of conceiving…" Ratchet broke of his thought process as the portable diagnostic tool beeped.

Megatron frowned, his processor racing and his tanks churning.

Ratchet processed the information before he glanced back at the duo, his facial expression giving nothing away. He tapped Megatron on the chest plates, ordering him to open up. Megatron, with hesitation, complied, a knot of dread forming in his spark as the medic looked over his spark with critical optics.

Moments later, Megatron pulled away from Grimlock and turned to face the overly delighted mech. Megatron raised his fusion cannon and fired.

* * *

**LeavesofMyself:** Bwaahahahaha!


	25. The Conseqences of Tasting the Forbidden

**LeavesofMyself:** Well, I'm back. Unfortunately, everything regarding my Starscream ABC's, which featured short tidbits that either advanced or had been related to "Chapter 1," "Detached," "Mockery," and "Bare" is forever lost. When I copied my Documents over to my external hard-drive, not everything copied correctly, which resulted in a massive loss of much needed work, both for this story and other things (i.e. school). So, for the time being, the continuation of the above mentioned storyline is currently on hiatus until I can manage to put something together. However, I'm not going to stop updating due to this minor setback. The "Heat" series seems to be doing well, so I intend to continue with that until I can manage to write a continuation chapter for "Chapter 1" etc. that I am pleased with.

Furthermore, if you have not read my bio, I have decided to move any and all future MA+ chapters over to (I got by the same pen name: LeavesofMyself). This means that any and all future chapters will be censored for this site. I'm doing this to prevent my account from being banned due to the crackdown on extremely explicit material. Please respect my decision.

Now then, let's get on with it.

**A/N:** This chapter can be found, unedited, on my account.

**Chapter Warning(s):** Mentions of explicit material, some Sticky!, and suggestive themes.

**Chapter Rating: **M

**Pairing(s):** Ratchet/?; mentions of Ultra Magnus/Optimus Prime and Jazz/Prowl. (Set in Animated universe)

* * *

**Units of Time**

Astrosecond = ~.273 seconds

Kilk = 1.2 minutes

Breem = 8.3 minutes

Solar Cycle: 1 day

Orn = 13 days

Groon: ~1 hour

Stellar Cycle: ~7.5 months or 1 year

* * *

Ratchet sighed as he eased into his office chair as white servos pressed against the sides of his helm in a desperate attempt to ease the processor ache that had been brewing there for the past orn. Grumbling underneath his breath, Ratchet reached into his desk, harshly pulling the false bottom of one of the drawers out and grabbing, with greedy servos, one of the stashed high grades he had confiscated from Bulkhead and Bumblebee during one of their more outrageous 'parties.' Without hesitation, Ratchet downed four large gulps, wincing a bit as the potent concoction hit his empty tanks, burning his insides on the way down. Ratchet rolled his shoulders as he relaxed into his chair, sighing as he starred vacantly into his chosen poison, optics dulling as the high grade began to filter throughout his systems.

Primus he needed this. It had been a long orn since he returned to the Autobot base. As it turns out, the brief amount of time the Autobots spent in the presence of Megatron triggered something akin to a sympathetic heat cycle. Despite the warlord's own cycle being in a brief hiatus, it seems that the others' systems were able to detect the online breeding protocols currently circulating through the grey mech's frame, thusly initiating their own protocols.

Ratchet still couldn't burn the image of Bumblebee, sweet, innocent (in his own way) Bumblebee splayed out on the couch, his gorgeous yellow thighs gaped open and his small servo pumping four fingers into his dripping port, his usually mischievous blue optics glazed over in frantic lust, sugary sweet moans pouring from his vocalizer… Ratchet shuddered in both lust at the wonderful sight and in repulsion for even thinking of their youngest member in such a way. Ratchet gulped down another large portion of his high grade in a desperate attempt to forget the scout's image.

Ratchet offlined his optics, his memory core shifting through the various occurrences of his team mates splayed in wanton positions as each of them tried to, in vain, rid their systems of their building charges. Ratchet, the only one to be unaffected by his teams' sympathetic heat cycles, had barricaded himself in his medbay, the doors triple locked with codes that only he possessed. While it had been highly tempting to simply ravish his team mates and rid them of their heat, he couldn't bring himself to let go of his old fashioned ways… Plus, the mechs of his team had grown to become something of a family to him and he just couldn't picture pleasuring Bumblebee without the overwhelming sense of 'wrongness' that plagued his processor at the mere thought.

The orn only got worse. Turns out, the Elite Guard decided to check up on the Earth bound team. Yeah, that had gone over well.

Ratchet snorted in amusement as he recalled the look of confusion and sheer horror on Ultra Magnus's face-plates as Optimus, who had wandered into the room, threw himself onto his superior, his engines purring seductively as he gyrated against the shocked commander's frame.

It had taken nearly a breem for Ratchet to pull a dejected and thrashing Prime off of the Magnus long enough to explain the current situation, though he left out the fact that it had been Megatron who had started everything. He figured he would let his commander assume that it had been one of the Autobots who had triggered the sympathetic heats. He hadn't been sure of why he had felt the need to leave Megatron's name out of this, pit, he still didn't know, but he did know that the thought of revealing Megatron's predicament left a bad aftertaste on his glossa and churned his tanks.

Ratchet onlined his optics, frowning as the medbay echoed with the loud, pleasured cries that distinctively sounded like Prowl. That was another thing that had surprised the medic, it turns out that though Prowl was a quiet mech in general, he was quite the opposite in the berth. The sounds were faint; the thick walls of the medbay dampening the impact but that didn't stop the wanton sounds from drifting to Ratchet's audios. The red and white medic shifted uncomfortably, his own systems heating as muffled pleas bounced around the quiet medbay, making the moans seem louder than they actually were. Soft pleas of "faster" and "Jazz" surrounded Ratchet in a cocoon of sheer lust, causing the medic's cooling fans to kick on and his spike to harden.

Growling in annoyance, Ratchet chugged the last of the high grade in one go before reaching into the drawer and downing half of another cube. He needed to get intoxicated so he could pass out, and judging by the second loud cries of what had to be Prime joining in the chorus, he need to pass out quickly.

That had been the worst part of this whole orn. He had to listen to his team mate's be ravished or ravish others, depending on their protocols demands, with no relief for himself. It made Ratchet want to pound his helm into the closest cement wall so he didn't have to deal with the pent up frustration.

Ratchet quickly finished off his second cube of high grade and was reaching for his third when he heard it… A faint but audible 'click' and soft hissing sounds as the medbay's door hydraulics engaged and slide open. Ratchet stiffened, apprehension seeping through his circuitry as he quickly swirled to face the invading mech, wishing he hadn't as his stabilizing gyros were thrown off balance from the sudden motion and the amount of potent grade energon circulating through his system. Ratchet's vision blurred, his systems entering vertigo as his stabilizers fought to maintain his balance and keep him from crashing unceremoniously to the floor. Several kilks later, Ratchet's vision focused, the swirling image of the mech in front of him centering.

The medic canted his head in confusion as Sentinel Prime stood before him. Ratchet growled out in annoyance, his processor ache beginning to resurface in full force.

"What do you want, kid? I'm busy," Ratchet barked as he glared at the mech before it. Sentinel, in response, only moved towards the medic, his narrow blue hips swaying seductively as he closed in on his target. Hazed optics widen in surprise as it dawned on the medic just 'what' the Prime wanted. With unbalanced steps, Ratchet hastily moved back in attempt to widen the narrowing gap between himself and the intruder.

Unfortunately, Ratchet backed right into his desk, the large metal rattling from the force but otherwise sat unmoved from its current position in the room. The medic scrambled, his processor trying to fight through the haze of high grade to come up with… something to deter the other mech but alas, nothing came to mind.

Sentinel came to a halt in front of the red and white ambulance, his frame leaning in towards the others as he rested grey servos on white shoulders, just over the red emblem before he shoved, sending the medic tumbling onto the desk. Ratchet yelled out in surprise, unprepared for Sentinel's brazen movement. Sentinel climbed onto of the medic, straddling the mech's waist.

Ratchet, caught off guard, could only stare at the Prime as he leaned down, his hot frame making his own shudder with suppressed lust, his spike, hard from the earlier cries of his team mates, pressurized more, pressing against his cover. Sentinel purred at his captive's response, his own frame tingling with want and uncontrollable need.

Sentinel opened his mouth a licked the chevron on Ratchet's helm, feeling the medic shift underneath him. Ratchet stifled a groan, his frame heating up more as his mind hazed from the growing tension and high grade.

In attempt to escape from the mech above him, Ratchet grabbed the Prime's narrow hips and sat up, forcing the mech away from his frame but not completely as, in retaliation, grey servos held tightly onto his shoulder plating, refusing to budge no matter how hard the medic shoved. Growing desperate, Ratchet began to ramble.

"Don't you have someone else you can… bother?"

Sentinel paused in his struggle to get back to the tempting red chevron, his helm tilting to the side as if contemplating the medic's question before answering with a simple, "No."

"What about Ultra Magnus?" Ratchet huffed, his desire beginning to win against his stubbornness, especially with the way Sentinel began to rotate his hips against his spike covering, sending sparks of tingling pleasure up his spinal strut.

"He's busy." Sentinel began to rock against the red and white mech, cherishing the rush of excitement and lust that traveled through his valve, engorging his already swelled spark.

"I'm sure he wouldn't mind if you joined…." Ratchet was cut off as Sentinel grabbed his servo and brought one of his digits to his hot mouth. A squeak of surprise left the medic as Sentinel took the sensitive appendage into his mouth, swirling his glossa over the digit with expertise before sucking nosily, moaning in content as he continued to rock his frame against the others.

"Primus…" Ratchet mumbled as he took in the sensations sparking from his digit, the oversensitive nodes firing off continuously as Sentinel continued to worship it. Without realizing it, Ratchet's red hips pushed up into blue, causing the mech above him to keen in delicious pleasure.

The medic's audios drank up the delicious sound even as his processor fought on in a vain attempt to dislodge the Prime from his lap.

"Sentinel," Ratchet paused, reaching up with a white servo to grasp the trembling mech's chin and tilt it up, forcing lustful optics to meet his own, "You need to stop this. You don't know what you're doing. You're under the effects of a sympathetic heat cycle…" Ratchet trailed off as the sharp sound of Sentinel's port covering opening echoed off the thick medbay walls, the sweet smell of lubricant and heat wafting to his sensors, thrusting him into a haze and his processor began to succumb to the mech's demanding heat.

Sentinel grabbed the fighting mech's servo once more, trailing the hand down his frame, sensual optics watching as the medic froze, his own optics watching his servo slip further down the Prime's frame before being manipulated and pressed against the other's valve. Ratchet groaned, his optics brightening with want even as his processor screamed logical reasons of why this should stop. Sentinel mewled, rocking his frame against the servo in a desperate attempt to ease the ache in his valve. Spreading his thighs wider, Sentinel locked optics with Ratchet as he manipulated one of the medic's digits to push inside his valve, his mouth opening as a moan of absolute bliss escaped him.

Ratchet's resolve caved.

* * *

Sentinel groaned as he shifted, a hiss escaping his vocalizer as a burning pain laced through his valve from the movement. Allowing another groan to drift into the air, Sentinel slowly onlined his optics, confusion stretching across his features as he found himself in a private room of the medbay. The young Prime moved to sit up but stop short when the ache in his lower regions flared up, his body quickly sagging back into the metallic surface in an attempt to alleviate his discomfort.

"Primus…" Sentinel whimpered as he tried countless times to access the recent files in his processor, his thoughts plagued by what had happened. Sentinel was only able to remember bits and pieces, his processor unable to conjure up specifics. He remembered his frame beginning to burn and fiery lust caused him to collapse in the hallway near the medbay. He can remember overriding the codes to the medbay in the hopes of demanding the medic to give him something for his current problem and after that… he could only recall sensations. The tingling pleasure of another frame scrapping against his, a dominating growl seducing his audios, the stinging pain of his seal breaking…. Wait…

Sentinel shot up in the berth, the sudden movement causing the ache in his valve to become a searing pain. A loud cry echoed off the medbay wall. Prime's vents heaved from both the pain and the realization that… _someone_ had broken his seal. He had laid submissive to someone and for the life of him he couldn't even recall who it was. Sentinel was torn between raging through the base until he found the mech and smashing his faceplates into the closest solid object or curling up into a pitiful ball of self-loathing.

The young Prime had prided himself on his seal, if meant his valve was untouched, unclaimed by anyone else. It proved to his subordinates that he was the epitome of mech-ly-ness. No one dominated him. _No one_. It was why he was so much better than Optimus, why he was still a part of the Elite Guard and the wash-up wasn't. He was a _mech_. A femme's man. Until now that is.

Sentinel growled, the sound resonating from deep within his frame, his optics narrowing in anger. When he found the mech who stole his… masculinity… Another dangerous snarl escaped the mech, his servos gouging at the metal berth, the blunt tips of his fingers leaving faint scratches in the shiny surface.

Heavy footsteps headed towards his private section, the curtain around his medical berth was pulled back as Ratchet entered, his bored optics taking in his patient before huffing to himself. Sentinel's angry optics snapped towards the medic and for some reason, he wanted to shove his fist into those bored faceplates over and over again…

"Finally awake, princess?" Ratchet asked as he closed the curtain behind him and walked to the stand sitting next to the berth. Sentinel sneered in return but it failed to elicit any sort of reaction from the otherwise grumpy medic. Narrowed optics watched as white servos opened a small cylindrical container, no bigger than the Prime's own pinky, before tipping the contents into the energon cube. Ratchet picked up the cube and swirled it gently, watching as the chemicals mixed with the energon, turning the vibrant pink into a dulled bubblegum shade. Once the ambulance was satisfied, Ratchet picked up the cube and handed towards the silently fuming mech on his medical berth.

Sentinel snorted before knocking the medic's servo away from his frame, his optics weary watching the contents of the cube slosh about from the force, some of the darker liquid splashing out to fall into a puddle on the floor. Ratchet rolled his optics at the young mech's childish antics, before he set the cube on the stand.

"You need to drink that." Ratchet said gruffly as he crossed his arms in front of the glass window on his chassis. Sentinel growled.

"Don't tell me what to do." Sentinel whined back, his vocalizer fritzing as his words cracked with static.

Ratchet frowned, his frame moving closer to the berth in order to inspect the blue mech's vocalizer but Sentinel's snarl kept him in place, the medic refusing to irritate the Prime further.

"What crawled up your tailpipe?" Ratchet snorted back, his patience wearing thin despite his best efforts.

"Nothing." Sentinel growled out, shifting his frame to get up from the berth in an attempt to get far away from the infuriating mech in from of him. Ratchet quickly thwarted his attempt as he grasped the Prime's orange shoulders, surprisingly gently, and pushed his weary frame back onto the berth. Sentinel let out an indignant cry as he was forced into lying on his back.

"Get your filthy servos off me, medic. I'll have you court marshaled for this!" Sentinel all but yelled, but the medic simple ignored his protests in favor of moving toward Sentinel's legs, beginning to place one in the stirrups attached to the metal berth. Realizing what was happening, sentinel kicked the red and white mech in the chin, causing the ambulance to pull back with a shout of surprise and anger.

"I said don't touch me." Sentinel warned his optics narrowing in rage.

"If you don't calm down, I'm going to pump you so full of sedatives; you'll be out for a stellar cycle!" Ratchet hissed as he forcefully grabbed the young mech's leg and slammed it into the stirrup. Sentinel blinked his optic coverings, thoroughly confused at the lack of promised physical harm in the medic's threat. Shaking off the twisting sensation in his tanks, Sentinel opted for sulking and snarling as the medic arranged his frame.

When finished, Ratchet looked back up at the brooding mech with an expectant look in his optics but Sentinel played dumb. Sighing in frustration, Ratchet swore he could feel another processor ache coming on.

"Just open your valve covering," Ratchet said as he rubbed a servo over tired optics. Sentinel snorted but refused to give into the medic's demand. Fed up with the younglings ridiculous behavior, Ratchet reached forward and felt around the valve covering, slightly relishing in the squawk of muddled pleasure and surprise that escaped from the young Prime. A moment later, Ratchet managed to press against Sentinel's medical override switch and the valve covering opened with a soft click.

Ratchet, ignoring the way the blue Prime protested, pushed a digit into the dry port, frowning at the young mech's wince and barely suppressed whimper of pain. Ratchet scolded himself for not being more careful the previous solar cycle, angry at his self for causing this level of discomfort in his berth partner, even if it was Sentinel. Sighing, Ratchet carefully withdrew his finger before opening the private curtains and stalking off to a nearby medical cabinet, leaving the still fuming, but now confused, mech on the berth. Several kilks went by before Ratchet hummed in victory, walking back towards the thoroughly confused Prime, his servo holding onto a long needle and a small bottle.

"This will ease the ache in your valve," Ratchet explained as he filled the needle and then placed the almost empty bottle on the stand. Moving the needle towards Sentinel's valve, he was paused in his efforts by a pede to the face.

"What the frag do you think you're doing with that?!" Sentinel squeaked as he eyed the needle in apprehension.

Huffing in annoyance, Ratchet removed the dark, navy blue pede from his faceplate, his optic twitching in suppressed rage. Ratchet forced his vents to suck in a large gulp of air before he opened his mouth to speak.

"I'm going to administer a sedative."

"Too my valve?!" Sentinel yelled as he scooted further up the berth in a vain attempt to escape.

"Yes. It needs to be administered to the valve lining in order to optimize its effects," Ratchet hissed.

"Well, get me a different sedative! You're not coming anywhere… OW!" Sentinel cried out as Ratchet held the young mech still and stuck the needle into the sore valve and quickly emptied the contents before Sentinel even know what was happening. The medic pulled the needle out and held it up, a smirk of victory crossing his faceplates as he watched, with amusement, as Sentinel's mouth opened and closed in both surprise and rage.

"I swear I'll have you're…"

"Feel better?" Ratchet said, effectively cutting off the irate mech before he could go off into a tangent.

Sentinel blinked his optics as he shifted his lower body from side to side, experimenting but finding no pain. Begrudgingly, Sentinel nodded, sneering at Ratchet's amusement.

"Good. Now drink your cube. You need the extra additive in your condition."

Sentinel paused in his silent sulking, his optics snapping up to the uninterested medic who was watching him with dulled optics.

"Condition? What condition?"

Ratchet sighed, knowing he had no choice but to tell the mech. The red and white mech desperately wanted a cube of potent high grade.

"What condition?" Sentinel bit out, impatient at the medic's hesitancy.

"There's no easy way to tell you this, kid, so I'm gonna be blunt," Ratchet started, watching as the young Prime tensed in apprehension, his own spark twisting at the mech's predicament, "You're sparked."

Sentinel was quiet for a moment, his optics doubling in size as the information sunk in, his vents hitching, stuck between a sob of pure horror and a scream. A breem went by before Sentinel was able to ground out, his voice soft and shaking.

"W-what?"

Ratchet sighed, once again rubbing a servo over his optics. He moved his tired frame to sit beside the distraught Prime, a servo reaching out to take the Prime's own limp one.

"You heard me, youngling." Ratchet whispered softly, all previous irritation at the Prime vanishing as he watched the youngling breakdown. Soft whimpers of fear escaped the young mech as fluid built up in his optics, his frame shaking as anxiety built up in his spark. Ratchet flinched, not sure how to handle the mech in front of him. He was expecting shouting, rage, and even a vindication to hunt down the mech (him) responsible but not tears. He was fully unprepared for that and it showed as the Prime quietly curled in on himself, his plating pulled tight to his body as soft cries echoed in the medbay.

Ratchet gently pulled on the Prime until the youngling gave in and allowed him to be pulled against the broad red and white frame. Ratchet sat there for nearly a groon as the young Prime sobbed out his sorrows onto the older mech's frame. Finally, Sentinel pulled away, his optics bright with fear as he looked at his twisting servos.

"Do you know…?" Sentinel mumbled, trailing off as a fresh round of sobs began to escape his scratchy vocalizer.

"You're looking at 'em." Ratchet said, watching as Sentinel paused once more, his optics locking onto his own.

"What? You?" Sentinel questioned his voice small.

Ratchet could only nod, his processor screaming that he was an afthead, that he should have pulled out and never finished inside the young Prime, but… That was in the past now. Now he had to face the consequences.

Only Ratchet didn't expect the consequences to slam into his face, sending his broad frame crashing to the floor. Ratchet looked up, shock clear as day on his faceplates as Sentinel leaned over the berth a sneer twisting his still anguished features.

"You?! You did this?! I'll have you court marshaled!" Sentinel sneered, rage forcing his optics to bleed indigo. Ratchet quickly got back to his pedes, his arm barely coming up to block the servo aimed at his faceplates.

"Calm down." Ratchet hissed as he narrowly avoided another punch.

"Calm down? Calm down?! I'll show you calm down!" Sentinel growled as he jumped up from his berth, his fists flying wildly at the medic's frame, not caring what part of Ratchet he hit, just as long as he hit him.

Ratchet dodged the attacks; his processor racing as he tried to calm the irate mech down, knowing that getting this worked up was a bad idea.

"Sentinel, if you don't calm down, you'll seriously hurt the sparkling and yourself." Ratchet yelled, his frame twisting out of range of a fist to his chassis only to run into a kick to his side. Ratchet groaned, the force of the kick denting his plating. Ratchet acted quickly, his servos blocking another well aimed kick for his helm. White servos threw the pede downward, throwing off Sentinel's balance in the process. As the mech tried to re-stabilize himself, Ratchet quickly grabbed the mech and twisted him in his embrace, his servos holding Sentinel's own to his body. Sentinel snarled in anger, twisting his frame and kicking his pedes as the medic immobilized him.

"Get your filthy fragging servos off me!" Sentinel screeched as he pulled against the medic's hold. Ratchet grunted under the mech's efforts but doubled his own, refusing to release the mech until he had calmed down.

"No. You need to calm down." Ratchet growled into the Prime's audios, only to receive a pede to his leg, the sound of metal scrapping metal soundly loudly in both of their audios.

"I'll calm down when you're scrapped!"

Ratchet struggled to hold the youngling as he twisted and pulled all the while yelling in frustration as the medic refused to give even an inch. Minutes ticked by and the Prime wore himself out, his vents heaving for air to cool his hot frame. Ratchet still held onto the Prime, afraid that if he were to let go now, Sentinel would only start up again.

"Are you done?"

Sentinel only sneered but his fatigued frame sagged back into Ratchet's own. The medic sighed and moved over to the berth, sitting the blue mech down on it and backing up for protection. It wasn't need though as Sentinel merely hunched over, his vents still gulping in air, his frame trembling.

"Look… Kid, I'm sorry," Ratchet began but paused as he tried to formulate an apology for… all of this but couldn't, his processor coming up with nothing sufficient to say.

"I don't want your fragging apology, medic." Sentinel sneered, his optics still a dark shard of indigo.

Ratchet sighed, the ache in his processors growing by the astrosecond. "Look, kid, I know you're angry-" Sentinel growled in response, his processor trying to force his exhausted frame to stand, the desire of wanting to show the medic just how angry he was shadowing his judgment,

"But you're going to have to get over it at some point. Your sparked with-" again Ratchet was cut off by the young Prime.

"Not for long. I demand that you remove... this... this parasite from my frame, immediately!" Sentinel hissed, poison dripping from every word. The sheer amount of rage detected in the mech's voice had Ratchet dumfounded, his optics blinking in surprise. Sure, the duo had had many altercations, but Ratchet had figured that the logical course of action would be to place their vast differences aside so they could talk this over. It seems that the Prime wasn't ready to let go of his anger.

"I would hardly call the sparkling a parasite," Ratchet growled back, his own suppressed ire beginning to come forth, "And I have some say in this decision as well. I am the sparkling's sire, after all. Whether you like it or not."

Sentinel let loose a bitter laugh, his optics narrowing in dark humor, "Like slag you do. It's my frame this thing is growing in. And I wasn't asking, medic."

Fists clenching in anger, Ratchet bit back, his voice low and hard, "I refuse to murder my own sparkling, Sentinel-"

"Are you disobeying a direct order, soldier?" Sentinel asked, his optics narrowing further. Ratchet merely humphed and glared at the trembling Prime, his fists aching with the desire to meet the mech's faceplates but his concern for his sparkling's well-being keeping his servos at bay.

"Fine!" a twisted smirk of victory stretched across Sentinel's lips, "I'll just get Red Alert to abort this disgusting thing."

"If you so much as think of harming that sparkling, I'll weld you to the berth until you birth it," Ratchet snarled, his own optics beginning to bleed indigo in pent up rage.

"And what are you going to do, stop me?" Sentinel laughed, his vocalizer grainy, "I'm your superior officer, I can do whatever the frag I want. I don't need your permission to abort this thing inside of me, especially not by some wash-up medic who can't even compete against a fragging key."

Ratchet's optic twitched as his rage became harder and harder to control, "Now you see here, youngling. I have more authority than you think and I'm more than capable of tearing you apart, bolt by bolt."

"And risk harming your precious sparkling?" Sentinel questioned in a mocking tone, before he snorted his feigned amusement, "Don't make me laugh."

"Using that innocent sparkling as a leverage is low, even for you Sentinel." Ratchet hissed.

"Says the rapitst..." Sentinel sneered. Ratchet, taken back by the accusation, growled, the deep, dangerous rumble resonating from deep within his frame and before he could reign in his temper, his servo snuck out and back-handed the young Prime across the faceplates. The medic's processor relished with sick pleasure as the blue frame twisted from the impact, the force behind the blow causing Sentinel to splay across the medical berth. A grey servo reached up and tenderly touched a sore cheek, before burning red optics whipped around to stare into darkening indigo.

"How dare you accuse me of rape." Ratchet all but hissed.

"And what would you call it? Lending me a 'helping servo'?"

Ratchet let his still clenched servo smash into the wall next to him, causing the tense form of the Prime to jump in shock. The loud noise echoed throughout the medbay, and, surely, the base.

"I tried to stop you, but you were the persistent one." Ratchet fired back as he calmed down some.

"I was under the effects of heat. You can hardly fault me for that." Sentinel huffed.

"And I fell victim to your scent. You can hardly fault me for that."

Sentinel growled, turning his optics away from the disgruntled medic. Ratchet, in return, sucked in a deep gulp of the air, sighing as he allowed some of the tension to ease from his rapidly tiring frame. Silence grew thick between the two, one brooding in silent contempt and the other merely waiting for the next round of insults to begin. Ratchet didn't have to wait long.

"Who would have guessed that my first sparkling would be with a wash-out medic who is well past his prime." Sentinel grumbled, more so to himself, but it didn't stop Ratchet from retaliating.

"And I never thought I would have one with a whiny, ungrateful, selfish afthead of a mech, like you."

"You can't talk to me like that! I'm your superior officer." Sentinel barked.

"You say that like it means something." Ratchet huffed, his somewhat relaxed frame easing into a chair next to the medical berth.

"What the slag does that mean?"

"Face it, Sentinel. The only reason your even in the Elite Guard it because Optimus took the fall for your mistake," Ratchet began, taking slight enjoyment out of the widening of the young Prime's optics, "We both know Optimus deserves better than what was handed to him. But you were a coward. You didn't care if you 'threw your best friend under the bus,' as the humans say. You hold no real authority, you should no that by now. Besides, Optimus is a far better mech and Prime than you'll ever be."

Sentinel was floored by the mech's audacity but he couldn't deny that the words didn't hurt. The blue mech felt fluid build up behind his optics as his rage vanished and self-loathing began to bleed in. Furious red optics faded to a dull blue as a choked sob echoed loudly throughout the encompassing silence. Sentinel couldn't take it and shifted his optics away from the medic's growing concern ones.

"Hey, kid... I didn't mean it-" Ratchet began as he watched the other mech slowly begin to crumble. Ratchet mentally slapped himself, his processor yelling at him that he had taken the insults too far.

"Get out." Sentinel whispered. Ratchet hesitated, torn between complying with the mech and wanting to make sure he was okay. The hesitation didn't sit well with Sentinel, as he screamed, desperation hinted in his cracking voice, "Get out!"

"Kid-" Ratchet tried but was met with the forgotten cube of energon being thrown at his helm.

"GET OUT!"

Ratchet sighed but stood and left the private section, closing the curtain behind him. His aged spark clenched in his housing as broken sobs followed him as he exited the medbay.

* * *

**LeavesofMyself:** Well, I hoped you enjoyed!


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